A Complicated Truth
by sockie1000
Summary: Steve wasn't exactly sure where he was. But he knew he didn't want to be there. So he ran. ** some Steve whump, but mainly unraveling the mystery of what happened. And it's not pretty. At all. *** NOW COMPLETE ***
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Complicated Truth

Author: Sockie1000

Summary: Steve wasn't exactly sure where he was. But he knew he didn't want to be there. So he ran.

Genre: Drama, angst, suspense, mystery

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Darker than my normal stories. Later chapters deal with some not-so-pleasant situtations. Nothing graphic and I'm sure you've seen worse on TV, I just thought I should let you know.

Author's note #1: This story is for Cokie. I told her back in the summer I'd write her a H50 story to thank her for being an awesome friend and for beta'ing all the other fandoms I dabbled in (that she didn't even watch) since S2 killed my H50 muse. So here it is, January and mid S3, and this puppy is just now going up. Needless to say, I'm working on the "better late than never" principle.

Author's note #2: Thanks to my wonderful betas, the aforementioned Cokie316 and also to Rogue Tomato. I'm still not sure how I got two great writers to agree to read my work but here's to hoping they never figure out that I got a much better deal than they did. So thank you, ladies, for your time, input, and encouragement. I couldn't do it without you. Well, I could, but my stories would be full of typos and misspellings not to mention they might not make sense and people would magically start wearing impeccably tailored suits when they never stopped by to pick them up in the first place. And the grammar would probably suck, too. So, yeah. You guys rock. (And for those keeping score at home, yes, that does mean someone will wear an impeccably tailored suit at some point in this story. You're welcome.)

Author's note #3: This story is longer than normal (not quite 50k and 15 chapters). I'll post every Tuesday and most Thursdays as well, depending upon RL. You know how that goes.

Author's note #4: I like cliffhangers. A lot. You've been warned.

And now, the story…

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_Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.__  
__- __Barbara Kingsolver_

Chapter 1

Steve wasn't exactly sure where he was.

But he knew he didn't want to be there.

So he ran.

It was hard to see in the dim moonlight. The slim crescent in the sky barely allowed him to see the shadows from the trees as they whipped by him.

He was running fast, pushing forward even though he wasn't sure which way to go. He headed downhill, thinking it would be the most likely way to a road. The incline added to his momentum and soon he was going even faster than he thought possible.

Until his foot caught on a rock and he fell.

Steve tumbled downhill and rolled head over heels several times until he was finally stopped by a tangle of vines. He landed hard on his stomach and the wind was knocked out of him. He gaped, mouth open, struggling to take a breath like a fish out of water. He blinked sightlessly, the underbrush so thick that the moonlight could not penetrate it. He struggled to hear something, anything. But all he could hear was the sound of his own labored breathing.

Steve wasn't sure how long he lay there. Time had lost its meaning.

But gradually, his breaths came easier. He heard the sounds of animals scurrying in the night. He held his hand up, an inch from his face, and could almost make out its shape.

And his ability to think returned.

He had been running. Running fast.

He couldn't remember if anyone was after him or not. He was guessing not, since he'd laying there for quite a while and nobody had killed him yet.

But he had been running for a reason. And until he could remember that reason, he would have to keep going.

Break time was over.

He had to get up.

Steve rolled over onto his back and hissed back the pain. He panted deeply a few times, trying to breathe through it, then gritted his teeth and pushed himself into a seated position. After a moment, the dizziness passed and he realized the big toe on his right foot hurt. He couldn't see it in the dark so he reached down and noticed, for the first time, that he was barefoot. His feet were scraped and muddy and slick from what he hoped was rain but presumed was blood. He gingerly felt his big toe and stifled a cry of pain when his touched raw flesh. The toenail was gone, evidently ripped off by the rock when he fell.

Steve quickly tore a strip of cloth from his outer shirt and wrapped it around the toe several times, tying it off with a knot on top. It wouldn't protect his toe as well as a boot, but it was all he had.

And all he had time for.

Steve pushed himself up and untangled his body from the vines. Then he oriented himself by feeling the ground with his feet, the moon having now disappeared altogether. After finding which direction was downhill, he began running again.

*H50*

The darkness began to dissipate.

The pitch black gave way to charcoal and then to grey. He could see finally see the rocks that jutted out of the ground, which had caused him to stumble and fall numerous times. He dodged the vines that hung from the trees like spider webs as he continued running. Always running.

Steve thought he should have reached civilization a long time ago. Which just went to show he was farther into the jungle than he thought.

Either that or he was running in circles.

But no. He had been running downhill. That should have kept him going in the same direction, right?

He thought it should. Was positive it should.

He was going the right way.

Unless he was running down the wrong side of the mountain.

The light continued to increase, the sky now streaked with the first pink rays of sunlight. A light breeze began to blow as the dawn broke.

Steve stopped for a moment, turning northeast into the wind, and inhaled. The wind didn't smell salty, like the ocean. Apparently, he was too far away; which meant he was on the leeward side of the island.

This was good news and bad news Steve thought as he began to run again.

The good news was he had been running in the correct direction.

The bad news was fewer people lived on this side of the island.

It would take longer to find help.

*H50*

Steve was almost surprised when he broke through the trees onto a narrow dirt road.

He stopped for a moment, stunned. Then he sank down to his knees on the red earth and laughed.

He had made it.

To where, he didn't know.

But he's made it to a road and a road meant people. All he needed to do was find someone.

Steve instinctually reached for his cell phone before he realized it wasn't in his pocket. Whether he'd lost it during one of his falls in the dark or never had it to begin with, he wasn't sure. But it was doubtful he was in cell phone range anyway.

As far as Steve could tell, he was on a pineapple farm. The red dirt was prized for its ability to grow the fruit with a high sugar content and low acidity, therefore driving up the desirability and price. The field across from the road was empty, but evidence of a recent harvest abounded.

And a recent harvest also meant workers.

Steve turned left on the road and began walking.

It wasn't long before he heard the rumble of an old engine. He turned around and saw a faded blue pick-up truck approaching, field workers riding in its bed. Steve waved his arm to signal although it really wasn't necessary.

The driver stopped the truck next to Steve and looked at him, perplexed.

"Thank you," Steve said with a grin, surprised at how hard it was to get the words out. Then he remembered he hadn't had anything to drink all night, too afraid of getting sick from potential bacteria in the streams he crossed to stop and take a drink. He licked his cracked lips but his dry tongue stung and felt like sandpaper.

The driver seemed to notice and called over his shoulder in Hawaiian to one of the men in the truck bed. The man promptly got up, filled a small cup from a water cooler, and handed it to Steve.

Steve gratefully gulped it down, not even caring that the water was too warm and tasted like plastic. He nodded his thanks and then handed the cup back to the man, who filled it again. Steve drank that water, too, and found it much easier to speak afterwards.

"Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?" he asked.

The driver shook his head. "No reception out here. Mauna," he added, jerking his head toward the mountain Steve just descended.

"Could you take me to a phone?" Steve asked.

The driver looked at him doubtfully.

Steve knew he looked bad. He was covered in mud from head to toe, his face and arms were cut and scraped everywhere from his falls, his shirt was torn, and he was barefoot with a dirty cloth wrapped around his big toe. Not to mention he has appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a pineapple farm. He wasn't exactly "take home to meet the family" material.

But maybe his badge would help…

Steve reached down to his waistband for his badge and noticed it, too, was gone.

Of course. Just like his phone, just like his gun, just like the last of his patience for this whole situation.

He looked back up at the driver. "Look," he pleaded, "I know I'm a mess, but I need to get back to Honolulu. I'm Commander McGarrett with 5-0."

The driver's eyes narrowed. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd think the driver was looking at him like he was crazy. And maybe he was. Steve really didn't care as long as he got a lift to a phone.

Finally, the driver nodded once. "Hop in the back with the men," he said. "I'll drop you at the work shed. There's a phone there you can use."

He didn't have to be told twice. "Mahalo," he said and then he climbed in.

*H50*

The work shed was only a few miles down the road.

The driver parked and the workers grabbed their hoes and piled out of the truck, ready to begin a tedious day of caring for thousands of pineapples by hand. Steve climbed out of the back as well just as the driver slammed the door on the cab.

"Phone's in there," the driver said, pointing to the small wooden structure.

Steve nodded his thanks, then made his way into the building and easily found the phone on a rickety metal table. It was an old, yellow rotary style straight from the 1970s covered in an inch of dust and grime. But when Steve picked up the handle, it worked, which was all he really cared about.

He quickly dialed Danny's cell phone and was relieved when it was picked up on the third ring.

"Williams."

"Hey, Danny it's me. Can you come get me?"

He was answered by silence. So much so that Steve wondered if the connection had been lost. Getting cell signals was always tricky on the islands and there was no telling where Danny was at the moment.

"Steve?" Danny finally replied, sounding uncertain.

"Yeah, Danno, it's me. Look I'm stranded out on some pineapple farm. I must have hit my head or something because I can't remember how I got out here. But I need you to come get me. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Danny answered much more quickly this time. "Just let me get a pen. Do you know where you are?"

Steve shook his head reflexively, even though he knew Danny couldn't see him. "No, but I can ask one of the workers."

"You know what, don't bother," Danny answered. "I'll call Chin and get him to find your location from the phone. Are you on a landline or cell?"

"Landline."

"Ok, don't go anywhere. I'll be there soon."

*H50*

"Soon" turned out to be almost an hour.

But Steve was so happy to see Danny drive up that he didn't complain.

Danny parked the Camaro in the shade of the building, right beside where Steve was waiting on the make shift porch. He got out slowly, shutting the car door behind him, as he took in Steve's appearance.

"I know," Steve said, holding his arms out from his sides with a half-laugh. "I'm dirty and sweaty and I need a shower. So go ahead and lecture me about how you're going to have to buy a hundred air fresheners to get my smell out of the car once we're back at the office."

But Danny didn't laugh back. Instead, he just stared.

"What?" Steve asked, walking towards Danny, thinking he must look a lot worse than he thought.

Then Danny closed the gap in two strides and embraced Steve in a bear hug.

"Ok…" Steve replied, unsure of what to do as the hug went on… and on… and on. Finally, he just patted Danny on the back.

That seemed to bring Danny to his senses and he stepped back, blinking rapidly.

"Wait…" Steve said, looking at him closely. "Are those tears?"

Danny blinked again and hastily wiped at the corners of his eyes. "Yeah. You stink."

Steve laughed. "Yeah, I know. I already warned you I needed a shower."

"And a shave," Danny added.

"You think?" Steve asked. He reached up to touch his stubble.

Except it wasn't stubble.

It wasn't stubble at all.

It was more like… a beard.

A beard that took more than one weekend to grow.

Steve looked up at Danny, eyes wide and uncomprehending as he tried to make sense of things.

"Danny…" his voice trailed off.

Danny cleared his throat and looked down at the ground before looking Steve in the eye. He pursed his lips for a moment, apparently trying to figure out what to say.

"Steve…" he hesitated, "you've been gone over a year-and-a-half."

_To be continued… _


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the response so far, guys. :) I replied to all of the reviews so if you left one but did not get a pm in return, please let me know (it was an oversight). And jodiesto, your pms are disabled so I'll thank you here.

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Chapter 2

Steve stared at Danny numbly for a minute before finding his voice. "What do you mean, I've been gone over a year-and-a-half?"

"I mean I haven't seen you in 19 months," Danny explained patiently; cautiously. As if Steve was some cracked egg that needed special handling or his yolk would spill out on the ground. "None of us have."

But Steve didn't want to be coddled. He wanted answers.

"Who's 'none of us'?" he demanded.

"Me, Chin, Kono, Catherine, Kamekona, Max … none of us."

Steve dragged his hands down his face as he took it all in.

19 months.

No contact. No job. No friends. No memories. No _nothing. _

For _19 months._

Steve shook his head. Danny was wrong. Just wrong. He was lying or misinformed or playing the worst practical joke in the history of mankind, but Danny was wrong.

Steve shook his head again. "That can't be right. I was just at the office on Friday."

"Look, Steve, I know this is a lot to put on you," Danny reasoned, pleaded even, "but it really has been that long."

Steve stared at Danny's hands, clasped together as if his partner's own body language was begging Steve to believe him. Could Danny really telling the truth?

19 _months?_

Steve blew out a large breath and dropped his hands to his hips. He worked his jaw for a few minutes, processing. Danny was wrong. Danny was wrong.

But if Danny was right…

"Did you…" Steve started. He looked down, then back at Danny before continuing, speaking words that were almost too painful to get out. "Did you look for me?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Danny asked, his voice both hurt and surprised.

Steve scratched his beard. In all honesty, he didn't know. So he might as well admit it. "An honest one," he said.

"Of course I looked for you!" Danny was exasperated, his hands flying. "We all looked for you! Why would you think we didn't?"

"I don't know!" Steve replied, getting equally annoyed. "Maybe because it's a year-and-a-half later and the only reason you found me now is because I pulled an E.T. and phoned home!"

"That doesn't mean…" Danny started, then stopped himself and held up his hands. "You know what? I don't want to do this right now."

Steve looked confused. "Do what?"

"Have an argument before we're even in the car. So let's just get in and go, alright?"

"Fine," Steve replied tersely as he headed for the driver's side.

Danny laughed humorlessly. "You've got to be kidding me, right?"

Steve scowled and rerouted himself to the passenger side, climbed in, and slammed the door shut.

Danny sighed and mumbled to himself, "it's nice to see you again, too."

*H50*

"Yeah, Chin. Sounds good. We'll meet you there."

"Meet us where?" Steve asked.

Danny clicked the phone off, setting it down on the Camaro's console. "At the hospital."

"I don't need to go to the hospital."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Of course you need to go to the hospital, you moron. Who knows what trouble you got into while you were gone?"

"I'm fine, Danny."

Danny snorted. "Says the guy who can't remember the last year-and-a-half."

"Well maybe I could remember something if you'd tell me what happened." Steve shot back, his voice rising in frustration.

"And as I told you already, I'm not going to tell you anything that happened until after we get you checked out!" Danny replied, his tone matching Steve's.

"Why not?" Steve questioned, visibly mad.

"Because I don't want to risk giving you an aneurysm in your brain that matches the one that's on your face!" Danny almost yelled back.

Steve was caught off-guard by Danny's response. Danny was always a passionate guy—he had strong feelings about everything from falling coconuts to 10 year old boys who dared to talk to his daughter.

But there was something else Steve detected in Danny's outburst- something besides anger.

With that realization, something in Steve's brain just clicked. And he knew what he had just heard.

It was fear. Danny was actually _worried._ About _him._

The anger drained from Steve's face.

"Huh," Steve said, with a lift of his head.

"Huh what?" Danny asked as he looked over, still trying to cool off.

"You _do _care," Steve replied, the surprise and wonder evident in his voice.

Danny sighed and shook his head. "Of course I care," he said gently, reigning in his voice and using a tone Steve had only heard him use with Grace. "I didn't drive all the way out here because I wanted to snag some fresh pineapple."

Steve took Danny's response in and after a moment, he smiled.

Danny noticed. "What's the smile for?" he asked.

Steve looked over. "I just remembered you don't like pineapple."

The revelation wasn't much of a step forward, but it was a step in the right direction nonetheless.

Danny offered a small grin in return. "And don't you forget it, partner."

*H50*

When Danny pulled into the ER parking lot at Queen's Medical Center thirty minutes later, Chin and Kono were waiting for them.

Kono practically ran into Steve's arms, giving him a huge hug. "We missed you, Boss."

Steve winced at her strong embrace but also chuckled. "I guess I missed you too. Although, it seems like I saw you only a few days ago."

"Trust me," she said, stepping back smiling and wiping her eyes, "it was longer."

"And you know my cousin is never wrong," Chin added, extending his hand and then pulling Steve in for a man hug and clap on the back.

"Sure, they get the smiles and hugs," Danny groused. "I get the cargument with the pig-headed amnesiac."

Steve released Chin and grinned. "Well, just think of that as part of the special bond we share, Danno."

"Special indeed," Danny countered with mock indignation. But also with a smile. "Ok," he said, clapping his hands together. "Reunion's over. Let's get Jason Bourne inside for a check-up."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're gonna have a lot of fun with this, aren't you?"

"Yep." Danny nodded and opened the door. "For as long as it lasts."

*H50*

It didn't last long.

After Steve called his mom and sister in California to tell them he was ok and persuade them not to come out yet, they had a few minutes in the waiting room to quickly catch-up. Danny, Chin, and Kono were all still at Five-0; Grace was turning into a teenager, throwing Danny into fits; Chin still had his house and rode his bike whenever he could; and Kono taught surf lessons on the side and had a special someone in her life. Then a nurse whisked Steve into an examination room while the cousins remained seated and Danny went back with Steve as his next of kin.

The nurses wasted no time taking Steve's vitals and noting everything on a chart. Then they cleaned up his cuts and bandaged them, taking extra care to wrap over his missing toenail. They also hooked him up to a saline IV which Steve protested was unnecessary.

He was overruled.

And to add insult to injury, Danny was apparently amused by the whole thing.

"You look like a dirty zebra," Danny said, looking at Steve's muddy brown arms and feet striped with white gauze and medical tape.

"Yuck it up, Danno."

Danny grinned. "I'm trying."

Steve sighed and then he turned his attention to the nurse who was adjusting the drip line on his IV. "Look, this really isn't necessary. I feel fine."

"I'm sorry, Commander." The nurse smiled apologetically. "It's just procedure."

"Really? You have a procedure for amnesia?"

"Actually, we do," a dark-haired, middle-aged doctor answered from the door. "We have a procedure for almost everything. Although, at this point I think you're getting the 'trauma' procedure more than the 'amnesia' one. " He stepped into the room and offered his hand to Steve. "I'm Dr. Fitzgerald. I'll be monitoring you today, Commander McGarrett."

"Hopefully not all day," Steve replied, shaking his hand.

The doctor's eyebrow quirked up. "Do you have somewhere more important to be?"

Steve shot Danny a look. "I don't know. Do I?" he asked somewhat sarcastically.

Danny grinned. "You're good."

The doctor chuckled. "Well, hopefully we can get you out sooner rather than later. And you are…" he asked, looking over at Danny.

"Danny Williams, Five-0," Danny answered sticking his hand out as well. "I'm Steve's partner."

"And you found Commander McGarrett?" the doctor asked as he shook his hand.

"'Found' is a relative term," Danny clarified. "But yeah, I found him impersonating E.T. on a pineapple farm. All he needed was a hoodie and a bike and he'd have been all set."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Hey, don't you get all irritated at me," Danny admonished with a grin. "You're the one who brought up E.T. in the first place."

"And I regret it already. So, E.T. and Jason Bourne. Are there any other movie characters you're going to throw out there so I can prepare myself to be annoyed in advance?"

Danny couldn't contain his glee. "Yes, there are. Right now, I'm trying to decide who to use next- Dory from Nemo or Drew Barrymore from 50 First Dates."

"Great," Steve huffed. "A fish or a girl. I can hardly wait."

"No," Danny corrected, "a talking marine animal with memory issues or an amnesiac who lives in Hawaii. You gotta admit, they both fit pretty well."

Steve didn't look like he agreed.

The doctor chuckled at the exchange as he pulled a pair of reading glasses out of his pink dress shirt pocket. He perched them on the end of his nose and peered over them at Steve. "Since your partner found you, I'd like for him to stay if that's ok with you. He might be able to help by answering a few questions."

"Might as well. Otherwise, he'd just interrogate me later. Probably throw me in the blue room and everything."

"The blue room's been a little lonely since you've been gone," Danny answered. "But I think even it would prefer if you took a shower first."

Steve snorted. "I would love to take a shower. But some unnamed dictator thought I needed to come to the hospital first."

"The unnamed dictator was right," Dr. Fitzgerald interrupted, looking up from Steve's chart.

"See?" Danny beamed at Steve. "I was right."

Steve glared back.

Dr. Fitzgerald sat Steve's chart down on the tray table and held up his hands in surrender. "Let's call a truce. And you," he said, looking at Steve, "why don't you tell me what happened?" he asked conversationally as he laid Steve back on the gurney to begin the physical exam.

Steve recounted the story as Dr. Fitzgerald examined him, mentally cataloging his injuries as the doctor found them- missing toenail, cuts on his arms and feet, bruises developing everywhere, and possibly a few cracked ribs. Not great, but all things considered, not too bad.

Steve was almost finished when the doctor touched a tender spot on his head. Steve winced.

"Does that hurt?" Dr. Fitzgerald asked.

"A little," Steve conceded. "I must have hit it one of the times I fell down."

"Hmm. Did you fall because you were dizzy? Or kept losing your balance?"

"No," Steve shook his head. At least he didn't think so- it was hard to remember. Not that he was going to admit it. "It was slick."

"Any nausea?"

"No."

"How about headaches?"

Steve paused, thinking. He did have a headache. Not the worst he'd ever had, but bad enough he might be willing to take a Tylenol. Still he wasn't sure it was a big enough deal to mention. He could always get some meds at home…

"He didn't immediately say 'no' so that means a big fat 'yes'," Danny said, breaking the silence.

Steve scowled at Danny but didn't correct him.

"How about confusion?" Dr. Fitzgerald asked.

Steve snorted. "You mean apart from not knowing where I've been for the last year-and-a-half?"

The doctor smiled. "Other than that. Maybe something that took a while to recognize or click in. Something you'd ordinarily know immediately."

Steve thought about it. "Well, it took me a while to realize I was barefoot. And I forgot Danny hated pineapple for a minute."

"A very serious error on your part, my friend," Danny chimed in.

The doctor grinned again as he picked up Steve's chart and wrote a few notes. "Ok, those two. Anything else seem off?"

Steve shook his head. "No."

"How about mood swings? Or irritability?"

At that, Danny actually laughed. "You mean aside from his normal, sunny disposition?"

"Hey!" Steve protested.

Danny held up his hands. "No offense, Steve, but you've been all over the map since I picked you up."

Steve wanted to argue with that. He really did.

The problem was, when he thought about it, Danny was right.

"Alright, then." Dr. Fitzgerald put the chart down, wrapped his stethoscope back around his neck, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Steve appraisingly. "I have to tell you, for someone who's been missing for 19 months, you're in pretty good shape."

"Great," Steve replied, swinging his legs over the side of the examination bed. "Can I go now?"

Dr. Fitzgerald shook his head. "Not until we get a few x-rays, run some tests, and play 20 questions. But your overall condition is much better than I would have expected. Your weight is fine, so you haven't been malnourished. Your muscle tone is good so you've been able to get plenty of exercise. Your vital signs are stable. And aside from your recent injuries- cuts and bruises, a few potentially cracked ribs, and a likely concussion- there are no signs of physical trauma. Wherever you were, you took good care of yourself."

"So, what," Danny asked, looking confused, "he's been sunning himself at the Ritz for a year-and-a-half?"

"The only one who knows that is Commander McGarrett," the doctor replied. "But so far, he looks relatively good."

"So why do I have amnesia?" Steve asked.

Dr. Fitzgerald shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. If you do have a concussion, that could be causing it. It's a rare side effect, but it does happen. So I'm ordering a CT as well as a tox screen. One of them might shed some light on this. And pinpointing the exact timing of your memory loss might help, along with determining the nature of the amnesia. So I'll need to ask you some questions."

Steve shrugged. "Ok."

"Ok, then," the doctor said, picking up Steve's chart again. "Let's start at the beginning. What year were you born?"

"1976."

"And your parent's names?"

"John and Doris McGarrett."

"And your high school?"

"Kukui High."

"Ok," the doctor nodded and made a few notes on the chart. "Now, what is the last thing you remember?"

"Going camping in the mountains." Steve replied. "We'd just finished up the Martinez case. It was a tough one so I thought some fresh air would be good. I went out for the weekend. Pitched a tent, built a campfire, the whole nine yards, just like when I was a kid."

Dr. Fitzgerald looked up at Danny, who was leaning against the wall of the exam room, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Danny frowned. The Martinez case… he mentally ran through all the cases they had handled over the years at Five-0. Then he remembered. A young family of three was missing and eventually found murdered. They solved the case but Danny didn't think he'd ever forget the face of that little girl lying in the morgue. "That was about seven weeks before Steve disappeared."

"Really?" Steve asked, looking over at Danny quizzically.

"Yeah," Danny confirmed with a solemn nod.

Steve frowned too. Missing 19 months was bad enough. Finding out it was a closer to two years was even worse.

Dr. Fitzgerald wrote something down and then looked back up at Steve. "So when you woke up, where did you think you were?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. It was all a bit hazy. All I knew was I had to get out of there."

"Even though you didn't know where 'there' was?"

Steve's frown deepened. The doctor was making this all sound really bad. Maybe Danny was right to bring him to the hospital after all. Steve couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong but now that he really thought about it, he did feel off- like he wasn't firing on all cylinders.

And he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, something bigger and more important than where he'd been for the last year-and-a-half. If only he could remember what that was…

"Do you know what year it is?" the doctor asked, breaking Steve out of his thoughts.

"Well," Steve started, thinking out loud, "it was the fall of 2012 when I went camping. So if it's been 19 months, it must be 2014."

"Did you know that before you did the math?" the doctor asked.

"No," Steve said with a sigh, hating to admit it.

The doctor scribbled on the chart. "Do you know what month it is?"

Steve's stomach sank a bit. "No."

"Do you know what day of the week it is?"

And a bit more. "No."

"Do you know who the president is?"

Steve chewed on his lip for a minute, wracking his brain. Not good… so not good… who was the president? Finally, he gave up. "I don't know."

Dr. Fitzgerald looked down and scribbled even more.

Steve stared at the floor.

Then Dr. Fitzgerald pointed at Danny. "Do you know who this man is? And I mean before he or I told you?"

At that, Steve looked up and a hint of a smile crossed his face. "Yeah, I do. Detective Danny Williams. Hater of Hawaii, continual complainer, and bane of my existence. But he's also my partner. And my best friend."

The doctor looked to Danny for confirmation.

Danny grinned. "That's mainly right. Although, I only partially hate Hawaii now."

"Oh, really?" Steve asked, perking up.

Danny shrugged, still smiling. "What can I say? The surfing's pretty good."

"Well, it's nice to know one thing changed for the better while I was gone," Steve said with a grin- a grin that quickly faded when he looked over at the doctor who was finishing up his notes.

"So, what's the verdict, doc?" Steve asked.

Dr. Fitzgerald set aside the chart and tucked his pen in his coat pocket. "I'll need to consult with neuro and get your CT and lab results back before making any definite conclusions."

"But your best guess?" Steve asked.

The doctor took off his reading glasses and looked Steve in the eye. "I think something happened that scrambled your brain. Your long term memory appears fine, but your short term memory is gone. The most likely cause is a blow to your head. It might have occurred when you fell while running but truthfully, it's possible you lost your memory before then. The other option is your amnesia could be psychogenic."

"Meaning?" Danny asked.

Dr. Fitzgerald looked over at him. "Meaning something happened that was so traumatic, Commander McGarrett is willfully blocking it out, even though he doesn't realize it."

"No way," Steve shook his head. "I can remember a lot of things from my SEAL days that I'd like to forget. That can't be it."

"Perhaps," the doctor conceded. "But the main point is, we just don't know."

That was not exactly the news Steve wanted to hear. He was about to ask the big question when Danny beat him to it.

"When will he get his memory back?" Danny asked.

Dr. Fitzgerald shrugged. "I don't know. It might come back all at once or the memories might resurface gradually over time." He looked back at Steve. "The best thing you can do is expose yourself to as many things from before your disappearance as you can. Maybe something will trigger a memory- it might be a sight, sound, or even a smell. But the more things you can expose yourself to, the better your chances are for recovery."

"So I _might_ get my memory back?" Steve asked incredulously. "That's the worst case scenario, right?"

Dr. Fitzgerald shook his head sadly. "No."

"Then what is?" Steve demanded.

The doctor sighed. "That it won't come back at all."

_To be continued… _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N #1: Thanks again for the response, guys. And to those of you I can't pm, thank you for your reviews now and going forward.

A/N #2: Also, it's worth noting that I started writing this story in September, finished it in December, and chose not to constantly revise it as S3 unfolded. Hope that's ok and if not, just think of this story as AU (whcih it kind of is anyway, since it happens in the future).

* * *

Chapter 3

The drive home from the hospital was non-eventful compared to the drive to get there.

There was no arguing. No name-calling. No belated revelations.

And no conversation.

There was just Steve, staring out the passenger side window, and Danny, driving steadily while stealing sideways glances whenever he thought he could get away with it.

It was one of the longest drives of Danny's life.

Sure, there had been other long drives- the one where he was one the phone with Grace's kidnapper sprang to mind along with the one to HPD after Rachel and Grace had been carjacked. And any drive where Steve was pursuing a suspect seemed to last for an eternity, especially when Danny was holding on for dear life and trying to keep his lunch down.

But for a supposedly normal, run of the mill drive with no impending peril or death, this one took the cake for misery and awkwardness.

Danny glanced over at Steve for what seemed like the millionth time. No change. Steve was still looking out the window with the same blank stare he'd had since they'd left the hospital.

And a blank stare meant a blank face which meant Danny had no idea what was going on in Steve's head.

Danny usually was happy not knowing what was going on in Steve's head because, simply put, Steve's head was a scary place to be. It was full of cockiness and explosions and a total lack of proper police procedure. It thought back-up was a suggestion and that shooting into a crowd was acceptable as long as nobody got hurt and the bad guys were caught in the end. And it also thought seaweed and protein smoothies were preferable to malasadas and coco puffs and that was one thought process Danny simply didn't _want_ to understand.

But Steve's head was also scary because it was so full of emotional baggage that Danny's issues looked like a carry-on compared to the steamer trunk Steve carried around. After all, Danny's life had been pretty good overall. He had grown up feeling secure in a loving family. He'd been married and had a wonderful child. Sure, he had some issues stemming from Rachel and their divorce, not to mention the murder of his partner in New Jersey and the drowning of his childhood best friend, but they manifested in simple ways. He picked less than flattering ringtones for his ex-wife. He insisted on back-up. He avoided the ocean. Again, simple ways.

But Steve… Steve's life had pretty much sucked. His mom had been blown-up (well, supposedly blown-up) in a car-bomb when he was a teenager. His emotionally distant father abandoned both him and his sister by shipping them off the live with different relatives, resulting in them not seeing each other for years. Then, his dad got killed while he listened over the phone because Steve refused to let a fugitive go free. And finally, Mommy Dearest Doris showed up after nearly 20 years and wow, was she a piece of work. It was no wonder the man had issues.

And they manifested in ways that were anything but simple. Steve was afraid to let people get close for the fear he would lose them. He was afraid to settle down because the only time he had been settled, he was uprooted. He was afraid to commit so he held a fantastic woman at arm's length. And he was so afraid of losing control that he never put himself in a position where he would.

It was enough to keep a psychiatrist in business for years. But Steve didn't have a psychiatrist.

Instead, he had Danny.

Well, Danny and a lot of grenades, but mainly Danny.

In the beginning, it wasn't a job Danny wanted. Their differences in everything from personal experiences to world views made the position of Steve's partner and occasional confidant daunting to say the least. But it was one Danny readily accepted after he got past Steve's gruff manner and found that underneath, there actually was a person who cared, even if he didn't know how to show it.

And in the end, it was worth it. It took time and beer and more forays into Mother Nature than Danny would have liked, but he and Steve became more than partners; they also became friends.

Danny didn't have any illusions of grandeur- he didn't think he'd "saved" Steve or "completed" him or any other psychobabble nonsense you'd see on Oprah or in the movies. But he did like to think that after spending time with him, Steve had changed. He became more open; more trusting; more nice; and just more human all the way around.

And if Danny could be there to help Steve pick up the pieces once, he could do it again. At least that's what he told himself in the silence of the car.

But even he had to admit those initial differences paled in comparison to the one they were facing now.

Because Danny remembered the last 19 months of his life.

And Steve didn't.

And if Steve didn't get his memory back…

Well, Danny was afraid there weren't enough petroglyphs in Hawaii to make that better.

*H50*

Danny parked the Camaro in Steve's driveway and killed the ignition. Steve was still staring out the window, just like he'd been for the past 20 minutes.

Actually, when Danny thought about it, Steve had been in a funk even longer than that. He had been upset that morning when Dr. Fitzgerald told him his memory might not come back, but he hid it fairly well. He smiled. He talked. He submissively allowed the doctors to run their tests. Maybe that should have been Danny's first clue.

But he really didn't pick up on it then. Maybe he was so happy to have his partner back that he was in denial that anything could be wrong. Maybe Steve was in denial himself. Or maybe Steve had become really good at hiding his emotions over the past 19 months. Who knew? All that mattered was Danny missed it.

But then the neurosurgeon sat down them down in a conference room with the CT scan results and told them that Dr. Fitzgerald had been right; Steve's memory might be gone for good. And Danny saw a shift in Steve.

He still smiled; still hugged Chin and Kono; still thanked them for waiting all day and told them he'd see them in the morning. But once they got to the car, Steve stopped talking. And the only word Danny could think of to describe Steve's mood now was depressed. Flat out depressed. Not that Danny blamed him— he was a bit depressed, too.

But still, the silence… it was hard to take.

Danny tried to hold it in but he simply couldn't anymore. He sighed.

"Are you ready to go in?" he asked.

Steve didn't move. Didn't reply. Just stared.

Danny almost thought Steve hadn't heard him but then Steve spoke.

"Someone's been living here." It was statement more than a question.

"Yeah." Danny nodded. "Your sister. She comes over once or twice a month when she's working flights from the mainland. She didn't mention it when you talked to her?"

Steve shook his head as he continued to stare out the window. "No. She didn't," he said numbly. "The place looks nice."

"Yeah," Danny replied, not sure what else to say. Not even sure what else to do. So he sat there, waiting.

Steve continued to look out the window at his home, still wearing the blank expression Danny found so disconcerting. After a minute, he spoke again.

"It doesn't seem real, you know," he said, shaking his head. "It feels like I was here yesterday." He paused and sighed heavily before continuing. "I can't lose almost two years of my life, Danny…" A hint of emotion crept into his voice, although he barely spoke above a whisper. "I just _can't."_

Danny sighed again. "I know, Steve."

Steve slowly worked his jaw silently for a minute, trying to process. So Danny let his mind wander as he looked out the windshield, giving Steve the space and time he needed.

After a few minutes, Steve nodded and looked over at Danny, looking more like himself than he had since they left the hospital. "Ok then," he said, his voice growing stronger.

"Ok, then… what?"

"The doctor said if I want my memory back, I need to be exposed to things," Steve explained.

"Ok…"

Steve nodded once. "So let's get started."

"Now?" Danny glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "It's almost ten o'clock."

Steve shrugged. "So I'll make some coffee." He opened the door and got out of the car, then leaned over and looked back inside at Danny.

"Are you coming in or not?"

*H50*

The answer, of course, was "yes".

Danny was coming in, if for no other reason than to make sure that Steve had snapped out of his funk. Danny was used to "Rambo Steve": the guy who tackled criminals, jumped into contaminated water after perps, and used military grade munitions whether they were necessary or not. Make no mistake; Rambo Steve was frightening.

But not as frightening as the "Zombie Steve" Danny had just witnessed in the car.

So yes, Danny would come in. He would drink a pot of coffee. Hell, he would drink two or even three if it would help return Steve to the man he was even this morning, much less two years ago.

"You hungry?" Steve asked as he moved around the kitchen, finding the coffee and sugar with the ease like he'd never been gone.

Danny shook his head. "No." Kamekona had brought plenty of shrimp and shave ice to the hospital a few hours earlier. The big man had cried openly when he saw Steve, enveloping him in the world's longest bear hug and refusing to let go. Steve practically had to pry himself loose. It was actually quite entertaining and apart from Steve's reappearance, it was easily the highlight of the day.

The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air. Steve poured two cups and brought them over to the kitchen table, setting one mug in front of Danny. Danny took a tentative sip of the scalding brew and then added some sugar, stirring to mix it in. Steve just sat and watched, his coffee untouched.

"What?" Danny asked, hoping Zombie Steve had not returned.

"I need you to tell me everything about the night I disappeared," Steve said; commanded, actually, with a piercing gaze to boot.

So much for Zombie Steve. Rambo was back in town.

Which was good, Danny reminded himself. Very good, in fact. Steve was never one to sit idly by; cutting right to the chase was right up Steve's alley. It was a sign of normalcy.

But still, Danny hesitated. Not because he wanted Steve to be in the dark, but simply because he didn't know if Steve was up to it yet. After all, Danny had pulled him out of a pineapple field, bloody and confused, just that morning. Taking it easy for one night wouldn't hurt. Not to mention, Danny was exhausted.

"Look Steve," he started, "you've had a long day. And who knows how long it's been since you slept. Why don't you get some rest and we can talk about it in the morning?"

"No." Steve shook his head, determined. "I'm fine. And I want to talk about it now."

Danny looked down and sighed, massaging his forehead and trying to fend off an impending headache. "Of course you do," he mumbled. After a moment, he looked back up. "I hope you have a lot of coffee."

The corner of Steve's mouth turned up in a once familiar half-grin. "I do."

"Ok." Danny blew out a large breath. "Let's start at the beginning."

*H50*

The beginning was 20 months ago.

Five-0 had ironically busted a laundromat in Chinatown for money laundering. When they raided the building, they found a large number of immigrant workers—far more than usual. They checked the workers' paperwork and noticed all of the documents were new. The documents were also bogus, so it really didn't matter which dates had been placed on them. But they were still pristine—the papers clean and crispy folded. They clearly had not been carried around in the pockets of scared immigrant workers for years or even months; possibly not even for weeks. A big operation had brought them all in recently; there were simply too many new people for any other conclusion to be logical.

"We knew we were looking for a snakehead," Danny said. "The most logical suspect was Sang Min, but he'd been underground for months. So we knew he was either back in business or there was a new player in town."

"So we went looking for Sang Min," Steve said, drawing the natural conclusion.

Danny nodded. "It took a few weeks, but we got a lead on a suspected associate of his; a pimp named Wang Lee. He worked girls down in the industrial district by the airport."

"Smart guy," Steve said, begrudgingly. "There are lots of places to hide down there and plenty of businessmen passing by on the way to their hotels."

"Yep," Danny acknowledged. "So we went to see if we could find Wang Lee and shake him down about Sang Min's whereabouts. We had received a tip about where he was and got to the address around sunset. Mr. Lee was there, standing on the street and talking to one of his girls."

"Let me guess. He ran?"

Danny grinned half-heartedly. "It's like you were there," he joked.

Steve offered a small grin back. "Either that or criminals are universally stupid and always run."

"That too," Danny conceded with a nod. "So Lee ran off and, naturally, we ran after him. But after a few blocks, we lost him." Danny paused and sighed heavily.

Steve waited, allowing Danny to tell the story at his own pace. He knew Danny needed to talk things out to process, just like Steve needed to think things out to do the same. And while mulling things over in the car had helped a little, Steve could tell, just by looking at Danny, that he was not the only one who was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened.

After a moment, Danny continued.

"We split up. You went right, I went left. That was…" Danny's voice broke and he looked down at his coffee.

Steve wasn't sure how long Danny he stayed like that; maybe a few minutes.

But then Danny pulled it together. "That was the last time I saw you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Steve waited again, giving Danny some time.

After a moment, he prompted, "What happened next?"

Danny looked up, his eyes tired and face drained, making him look much older than he was. "After about five minutes, I'd covered my area thoroughly and knew he wasn't there. I figured he'd gone right so I went looking for both of you." He paused and let out a small snort. "I actually thought you were probably already dangling him off a roof."

"Good assumption."

"Maybe." Danny gave a small shrug. "But I was wrong. I couldn't find you anywhere. So I called in back-up."

"You were probably itching to do that before the chase even started," Steve joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It seemed to help some, but not much.

"We searched for hours," Danny said, talking in a monotone as if he was on autopilot. "We called in every available HPD unit. Then we called in extras from the reserves. We expanded the search grid. We brought in helicopters with searchlights. The Governor called in the Navy and the National Guard." Danny paused and took a weary breath before continuing. "We knocked on every door, searched every building. We questioned everyone we could find. We held outgoing flights. We searched the airport and all the planes. We went down to the docks and searched the ships. We worked through the night, into the next day, and then back into the night."

Danny stopped talking and looked back down at his now cold coffee.

Steve waited again, but then it became apparent that Danny was stuck. "But you didn't find me," Steve concluded, his voice gentle and free of condemnation.

Danny shook his head. "You were just… gone," he said quietly. He sighed and looked up at Steve. "I went back every day for two months. But there was nothing. No leads, just nothing. It was like you had never been there." Danny snorted lightly, without humor, and looked back down. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, trying to keep his emotions in check.

He was almost successful.

Danny blinked hard a few times, then spoke quietly. "It was the worst 19 months of my life."

Steve looked at Danny sadly and sighed. "I have a feeling it was for me, too."

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Danny was tired. So very tired.

To say the day had been draining was an understatement. Between finding Steve, spending seemingly endless hours at the hospital, and then finally having to relive one of the worst days of his life, Danny was just plain spent, both emotionally and physically. All he wanted to do was to go home and sleep for 12 hours straight.

If only he could do that.

After telling Steve about the night he went missing, they both sat at the kitchen table in silence for a while, the sorrow hanging heavy in the air around them.

Finally, Danny couldn't stand it anymore. He had to get it off his chest.

"I'm sorry, Steve," he said quietly.

And he was sorry. Sorry they had split up; sorry he had lost Steve; sorry that he couldn't find him again, no matter how long and hard he looked. He would give almost anything for a do-over of that last five minutes.

Steve sighed. "It wasn't your fault, Danny."

"And you know this _how_?" Danny asked.

"Because I know you. And I know me."

Danny shook his head. "We shouldn't have split up. I should have insisted we stay together…" he started but was cut off.

"I never would have agreed to that and you know it," Steve interjected.

At that, Danny almost smiled. "So what you're saying is it was _your_ fault?"

Steve gave Danny a half grin. "Something like that. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

"Yeah, and you never listen."

"Well, maybe this time I am," Steve said with a smile; a smile that faded after a moment as they lapsed back into silence.

Then Steve spoke. "I want to go."

Danny looked up, confused. "Go where?"

"To the warehouse district, where I disappeared," Steve said simply, as though the answer was obvious. "Take a look around, see if anything looks familiar."

Danny sighed and glanced at his watch. "Look, Steve," he reasoned, "I know you want your memory back and you wanted it back yesterday. But it's eleven o'clock and it's too dark to see anything anyway. Not to mention, you're beat and so am I. Let's just call it a night, get some rest, and we can go take a look in the morning."

Steve thought it over for a moment and then agreed. "Ok." He nodded, rising from his chair.

"Ok." Danny walked over and rinsed out his coffee mug, setting it down in the sink. He wiped his hands off on a towel and turned around, facing Steve. "You know, I could stay here if you want, just in case you need anything." He pointed to the living room. "I could crash on the sofa."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the coffee pot over to the sink and dumped it. "I don't need a nanny, Danny. I forgot what I did last Tuesday. I didn't forget how to brush my teeth."

"Ok, then." Danny blew out a breath, somewhat relieved. "How about I swing by around nine in the morning and we can go from there?"

Steve nodded again. "Sounds good."

*H50*

And it did sound good.

It sounded great, actually. Especially half an hour later as Danny sat in the Camaro in the dark, two doors down from Steve's house. He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed it, trying to ease his headache. He was hoping he was wrong. Praying he was wrong…

He heard the distinct rumble of a truck engine starting up.

… And he wasn't wrong.

Danny sighed as he fired up the Camaro and put it in gear, pulling forward to block Steve's driveway.

Thankfully, Steve noticed the car before he plowed the Silverado into its side.

"What are you doing, Danny?" Steve called across the driveway as he jumped out of his truck.

Danny got out of the Camaro and shut its door. "I'm trying to keep you from doing something stupid," he explained as he walked toward Steve, trying to defuse the situation.

Not that it worked.

"So finding out what happened to me is stupid?" Steve practically yelled.

The neighbor's lights went on next door.

Danny raised his hands in an effort to quiet and calm Steve down. "Of course not. But going off in the middle of the night, by yourself_, with amnesia_, is not the best idea."

Steve placed his hands on his hips. "So you have a better one?" he challenged.

"Yes," Danny nodded. "If you have to go tonight, we can go together."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight onto his left hip. He carefully studied Danny and then his eyes narrowed. "If you knew I was going to go, and you were willing to come along, then why didn't you just agree to go with me in the first place?" he asked.

Danny shrugged, his hands now in his pockets. "I was hoping you'd forgotten how stubborn you are."

At that, the tension left Steve's body and he relaxed. He looked at Danny and smirked. "No way, man. That's a long term memory thing."

Danny nodded sagely. "I was afraid of that. But on the bright side, at least you've had time to shower and change," he said, gesturing to Steve's clean clothes and freshly shaven face.

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, well, I had to look nice for our hot date."

Danny rolled his eyes and shook his head. But he also grinned. "Whatever. Just park your truck so we can get going."

*H50*

It was past midnight by the time they arrived at the warehouse district.

The place was mainly deserted, except for a few prostitutes working the streets and a drug dealer or two lurking in shadowy doorways. All of them scattered and fled when the Camaro approached and parked at the curb.

Steve watched them go, looking out from the passenger side window. "Well, I guess that saves us a few arrests."

"Which reminds me," Danny said, "I need to take the alert off your badge."

Steve looked over, surprised. "You have an alert on my badge?"

Danny nodded. "I wanted to be notified in case you tried to use it. Or anyone else, for that matter." He shrugged. "I thought it might help us find you."

"That's smart," Steve acknowledged.

"That's why they pay me the medium bucks," Danny quipped with a half-hearted smile.

Steve grinned. Some things never changed, no matter how much time had gone by. "The raises still that bad?" he asked.

Danny shrugged again. "The cost of living raises still suck. But the promotion one was ok."

At that, Steve's smile widened. "You got promoted? That's great! What are you now, a Sergeant?"

Danny squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "Actually," he hesitated before looking over at Steve, "I skipped over Sergeant and went straight to Lieutenant. I guess the Governor didn't want the head of Five-0 to be outranked by one of his other officers."

Steve should have anticipated that Danny was now in charge. He should have thought about it. He should have seen it coming from a mile away.

But he hadn't.

He had been so caught up in trying to figure out what happened that it never even occurred to him that once he had the answer, he might not have the jurisdiction to do anything about it.

And now that he knew, the implications hit him like a brick wall. Was he still a part of Five-0? And his immunity and means- did they go flying out the window the second he disappeared? Could he make an arrest? Could he question a suspect? Could he carry a gun? Could he even carry a badge? Did he have the authority to do _anything _at all?

And with that, Steve was lost, floundering; even more than he had been before.

But even amidst the confusion, there was something else. Steve wasn't sure what to call it... "Pride" seemed too fatherly. "Happiness", maybe? But that seemed too glib. Perhaps "contentment"? Or "satisfaction"? He really didn't know. All Steve knew was that is he wasn't in charge of Five-0 anymore, the person he'd want to have the job was Danny. His partner was a great detective with good instincts who worked hard. He had earned it.

"That's… great, Danny," Steve started.

"You know what," Danny interrupted, holding up his hand to stop Steve from speaking. "You don't have to say anything. You're still in Five-0 in my book. So let's just pretend things are like they've always been and try to find out what happened to you. We can talk about the rest later."

Steve wasn't quite sure what to say. But it was obvious, just by looking at Danny, that this was one conversation he simply didn't want to have right now. He just looked… drained. Steve wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it before. Granted, Danny had mentioned being tired a few times that evening but he didn't think much about it because Steve had been tired, too. And besides, Danny just liked to complain. It was almost as natural to him as breathing.

But he really did look exhausted. And since Steve had already forced him to talk about his disappearance and dragged him out to the warehouse district in the middle of the night, both against his will, Steve decided the least he could do was honor his partner's request now. The discussion could wait until Danny was ready, however long that might be. It was the least Steve could do.

"Ok," he agreed.

Danny looked over at Steve, wary. "Is this like the 'ok' in the house, where you agree with me but then do whatever the hell you want thirty minutes later?"

A small smile crossed Steve's lips. "No. Not this time."

"Alright, then," Danny nodded. He reached for the car door. "Let's go."

*H50*

They started at the beginning, at the street corner where they first saw Wang Lee. Danny led the way, retracing their steps, as they weaved between buildings and through the alleyways. What few people were on the streets melted into the darkness as Steve and Danny approached, the badge clipped to Danny's belt shining like a beacon; or, perhaps more accurately, a warning. They continued walking until they reached the point where they had spilt up and Steve had disappeared.

"So this is it?" Steve asked, looking around at the intersection. There was nothing remarkable about it—it looked like all the other intersections they had passed through so far that night. Dark, with a few stray cars parked down the side streets, and some litter blowing along the ground in the light island breeze. It simply looked ordinary with nothing indicating this was where Steve's life was changed forever.

Danny nodded. "Yeah. I went left and you," he said, pointing, "went off that way to the right."

"Then to the right it is," Steve commented, turning that way.

Danny fell in step beside him. "Does anything look familiar?" he asked as they walked.

Steve shook his head. "No."

Danny asked the same question and got the same response over a dozen times as they traversed the streets, searching the same initial grid from 19 months before. Two hours later, they were finished and had nothing to show for it but frustration.

"So still nothing?" Danny asked.

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "No."

"Look, Steve," Danny began, "the doctor said it might take time. Let's give your head a few days to rest and then we can come back. Maybe something will look familiar then."

Steve rubbed his eyes a second more, then dropped his hands. He really didn't want to give up, but what Danny said made sense. It was late, they were both beyond exhausted, and who knew if his brain was even capable of remembering anything at the moment? Going home and starting fresh in a day or two couldn't hurt.

"You're probably right," Steve said with a sigh. "Where else do we have to look?"

"The airport and the docks."

Steve looked at his watch; it was after two a.m. "The airport's locked down for the night anyway. Let's drive by the docks on the way home and then call it a night."

Danny nodded. "Ok."

They made their way back to the Camaro and in a matter of minutes they were off, driving toward the docks on the Nimitz Parkway. Steve watched as they passed by the ships—some large, some small- and all universally rusty, giving them an air of neglect whether it was accurate or not.

Steve tried to pay attention to the actual docks, hoping to see something of note, something he remembered. But the lull of the car engine was pulling him towards sleep, reminding him that he had been up for over 24 hours, and most likely even longer. His eyes were getting sleepy, the lights from the ships beginning to blur together. Danny stopped for a red light and Steve found himself drawn toward one set of lights in particular- a simple string of white bulbs, spanning a ship from bow to stern, dangling and shining in the darkness. Just like a light bulb hanging from a wire…

_Steve awoke with a jerk. _

_He didn't know where he was. And he didn't know how he got there. _

_But waking up in the dark, sitting on the floor with your hands bound behind your back and a sock duct taped into your mouth was always a bad sign. A very bad sign._

_His eyes searched the dark but he couldn't see anything, save for a slim sliver of dim light near his feet. So, he was in a room. He tried to stretch out his legs, but they hit a wall after extending only a few inches. Ok then, a closet._

_He listened, hearing a faint lapping of waves and then noticed slight movement. Steve knew what those two put together meant—a ship. He'd spent too many years in the Navy not to recognize when he was on the water. Although, the fact that he didn't realize it the second he woke up was troublesome. Which probably meant… Steve couldn't reach up and touch his throbbing head, but now that he was paying attention, it did feel wet. The rest of his clothes were dry, so the only logical conclusion was his head was bleeding; most likely a result of the same injury that caused him to black out. _

_So, bound and gagged in closet on a ship with a head injury. Things were not looking up. _

_He struggled to get free, twisting and turning and working on his bonds until sweat was running in rivulets down his back. All to no avail. _

_He was still stuck. Still captured. Still screwed._

_He wasn't sure how long he sat in the darkness. An hour? Two? Four? Long enough for him to realize he no longer had his cell, badge, or gun. Long enough to realize the ship was picking up speed and they were headed out to the open sea. And long enough to realize he wasn't going to get free; at least, not in the closet. _

_Eventually, he heard footsteps approaching. _

_Steve cocked his head and listened closely. It sounded like two sets of footsteps, the difference in pressure and stride discernible to his trained ear. _

_Two against one… that wasn't too bad. Even bound, he'd take those odds. If he could just overpower them, he would have the element of surprise when he got up top. Then he could jump ship, literally, and rely on his drown-proofing training to get him to the surface and hopefully to shore. Provided they were not in the middle of the ocean already…_

_His planning was interrupted as the door was unlocked and suddenly jerked open, the light spilling in and temporarily blinding him. One of the men reached down and hauled him to his feet. Steve let him, playing the part of the woozy and disoriented captive to his advantage. He had been right—there were two men; both large, both very well armed. _

_Steve usually wasn't much for nicknames, that was more Danny's department, but he had to call them something. The one who still had him by the arm was short and stocky and had a shock of spiky black hair, so Steve nicknamed him Ernie. The other taller and thinner man naturally became Bert. _

_Ernie led Steve from the room into a dim hallway, the size of which told him they were on a fairly large ship; most likely a cargo freighter. They continued down the hall and stopped at a metal door, which Bert opened, revealing a set of utilitarian steel stairs. Ernie shoved Steve toward the steps, nudging him in the back with his AK-47 for good measure. _

_Steve saw his chance. Once they got to the top of the stairs, there would probably be more men. His best chance to stage an escape was now. _

_Steve stepped onto the first step, then the second, with Bert and Ernie right behind him. Steve pretended to stumble on the third step, rocking back unsteadily. Bert shifted to avoid him, which was exactly the opening Steve was looking for. He whirled around and landed a hard knee to Bert's groin. Bert automatically dropped his weapon and hunched over. Ernie started to pull up his assault rifle, ready to fire it at Steve. But with Bert now useless, Steve kicked out past him, knocking the AK-47 in Ernie's hands just enough to make his shot go wide. The bullet pinged around the steel laden stairwell loudly and dangerously. Steve didn't know where it came to rest, but since the bullet wasn't lodged in his body, he really didn't care. He placed a powerful kick to Ernie's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. _

_Steve turned and ran up the stairs. He was almost to the top when the door was thrown open, a guard on the other side. Steve continued running and plowed into the man like a linebacker, knocking him down. Steve tripped on the man and stumbled, falling to his knees, his hands bound behind his back not helping his balance. Still, he got up and started to run again. He ran down the hallway and rounded the corner… and ran right into four armed men. _

_The lead man sneered at him as he raised the butt of his gun._

_And everything went dark again._

_*H50*_

_This time, when Steve woke up, he knew right away he was on a ship, even before he opened his eyes._

_But when he did open his eyes—or more accurately his "eye", because his right eye was swollen shut—he noticed that some things were different this time._

_Instead of sitting on the floor of a cramped closet in the dark, he was sitting in a chair at a table, and a single light bulb was swinging, ever so slightly, from a wire in the ceiling. _

_And this time, he was not alone. _

_Bert and Ernie were there, standing against the wall and glowering. Steve noted with some satisfaction that Bert was still a bit hunched over. Another man was also in the room; Steve thought he was the one who had knocked him out, but couldn't be sure. In any case, upon seeing Steve was awake, the man opened the door and left the room. Moments later, the door opened again and a man Steve had never seen before walked in._

_He was Asian, in his early 30s, with a medium frame, muscular build, and closely cropped black hair. He was wearing a short-sleeved black t-shirt which revealed colorful tattoos overlapping every square inch of his bulging arms. They reminded Steve of a sticker book Grace had once left in Danny's car. Steve nicknamed him Stickers. _

_Stickers pulled out a chair and swung his leg over it lazily, sitting down across the wooden table across from Steve. Stickers leaned back, cocked his head, and proceeded to stare at his captive, his gaze a mixture of contempt and curiosity. After a moment, he spoke. _

"_So, Commander McGarrett of Five-0," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Steve's badge, placing it on the table. "Glad you could join us."_

_Steve's stomach dropped. _

"_I have to say, I was really surprised when you ran onto the ship, chasing after that little punk of a pimp."_

_Steve searched his memory… a little punk… then he remembered. He had been chasing Wang Lee, the pimp with suspected ties to Sang Min. But if Steve had chased him on board, where was Wang Lee now? In a closet of his own? Or worse? Steve was hoping for the former but guessing the later. _

_His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately. _

"_Of course, I can't put up with that kind of stupidity. It's bad for business," Stickers said, shaking his head like he was sorry. _

_But Steve knew he wasn't sorry; not sorry at all. And Steve might have been tempted to say so if the sock wasn't still stuck in his mouth, the duct tape still secure even after the scuffle. But it was just as well; he didn't want to give Stickers the satisfaction of a reaction._

"_But it was really good luck," Stickers continued. "Well, for me," he added with a smile, his teeth shiny and so white that Steve wondered if he spent every spare moment he had at the dentist's office with a bleach tray in his mouth. "For you… like him…" Stickers continued with a sneer, "not so much."_

_Again, Steve didn't react. He knew Stickers was trying to rattle him. What Stickers didn't know was that Steve was a SEAL and it took a lot more than a guy with a lot of tattoos and an attitude to ruffle his feathers. He remained emotionless as Stickers continued his monologue._

"_I thought about killing you, too," Stickers said conversationally, as if he was discussing the daily surf report or the weather. "After all, my friends would be quite impressed if I took out the head of Five-0." Then he shrugged. "But killing a man while he's unconscious… it's kind of cowardly, don't you think?"_

_Steve did think so but he also didn't think for one second that Stickers cared about what was cowardly or not. So Steve just sat there, staring straight ahead, waiting for Stickers to finish his dog and pony show and get to the point._

_Which he did._

_Stickers picked up Steve's badge and began to spin it on the wooden table like a top, the light from the bare bulb glinting off the gold and blue shield as it twirled. "But then I realized that while my friends might be impressed if I killed you..." Steve's badge lost momentum and fell over, face down, and Stickers looked back up at Steve, all traces of humor and smiles now gone from his appearance. _

"_They would be even more impressed… if I used you."_

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"And that's all you remember?" Chin asked as they all sat around the conference room table the next morning.

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands, then dropped them down to the table. "Yeah. That's it."

Steve was still tired, having slept only three or four fitful hours after finally getting to bed the night before. After remembering what happened on the ship, he had stayed up even later telling it to Danny twice, and even recorded it once on his iPhone, afraid he might forget it again. Then, this morning, he told it two more times to Danny, Chin, and Kono at Five-0 Headquarters.

"Well, it's a start," Chin replied. "I'll start pulling the registration paperwork for all the boats and ships docked in Honolulu the week you went missing. We'll take a look and see if anything pops."

Steve nodded, forever glad he had such a capable team. "Thanks, Chin."

"No worries, brah. We're just glad to have you back." Chin smiled and stood, walking out to get started on the smart table.

"And don't forget," Kono added, "this is really good news."

"Yeah? How's that?" Steve asked.

Because being held captive was never good news in Steve's book, even if it happened 19 months ago. Being captured meant you let someone get the drop on you and in this case, it had happened twice. It was as humiliating as it was unforgivable. And hardly a stellar day for a SEAL.

Kono smiled at Steve kindly. "It means your memory's not gone for good."

Steve blew out a large breath. It wasn't much of a consolation, but it was something. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Kono reached over and patted Steve's hand, reassuringly. "I am. We'll get your memory back and then we'll get these guys. You'll see." She smiled again, then rose and walked out of the conference room to help Chin.

Steve had no doubt he would get the men from the ship. All he needed was for his memory to cooperate.

And that was the hard part. If the ship lights were any indication, his memories were all there, just waiting for him to access them. But finding what prompted them was difficult, considering the triggers appeared to be arbitrary. Steve had taken the shade off the lamp in his bedroom and stared at the bulb for what seemed like forever after he went to bed, hoping it would produce another memory. But all he got for his trouble was a miserable night's sleep and an overwhelming desire to throw his lamp out the window. It was clear the light bulbs had yielded all of their clues; he would have to find something else. And to a man who liked order, the randomness of it all was driving him crazy.

"Hey," Danny said, interrupting Steve's thoughts, "why don't you go catch a nap in your office? I'll let you know when we have something."

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine. I just need some coffee and I'll be awake."

"Nobody will think any less of you if you take it easy today," Danny said, trying to persuade him.

It didn't work.

Steve looked at Danny incredulously. "How long have you known me?"

"Long enough," Danny said with a shrug and a hint of a smile. "But it was worth a shot." He stood up from the conference table and inclined his head toward the door. "C'mon. Let's see if Kono bought any of that icky soy milk you like so much."

*H50*

Kono had indeed bought soy milk on the way in. Low-fat vanilla, in fact. His favorite.

Not that it really helped, Steve reflected, as he downed his fourth cup of coffee that morning. Usually, he held himself to one cup; maybe two. But that was it; he didn't want to risk the caffeine making him jittery. However, since he was still barely awake after the second cup, the third and fourth came in quick succession, downed with hardly a second thought.

They stood around the smart table all morning, looking at pictures of boats and ships that were docked in Honolulu when Steve went missing. Steve sighed and shook his head. None of the ships looked familiar. None of the ship names rang a bell. And Steve's memory remained locked down tight, much to his growing frustration.

"Why don't we take a break," Chin finally suggested around noon. "We can expand the scope after lunch—pull in more weeks of data and more ports besides Honolulu. Maybe we'll find something then."

Steve could only hope Chin was right.

*H50*

Lunch was a subdued affair, with Danny, Chin, and Kono periodically throwing nervous glances at Steve, who barely even picked at his grilled chicken with pesto and provolone on whole grain bread, while they tried to keep the conversation upbeat.

Steve didn't say much of anything, and only listened half-heartedly, as his mind kept churning.

"Look, maybe I should just call Catherine," he finally said. "She might be able to find something."

Instantly, the conversation stopped and the room grew silent. Danny, Chin, and Kono all looked over at Steve, then quickly at each other, as if trying to decide who would be the spokesman of the group.

Steve noticed. "What?" he asked, a sense of dread creeping up on him.

After a few more glances, Danny cleared his throat, evidently having won the silent election. "I've been meaning to tell you this, but it didn't seem like a good time, with your amnesia and all…" he waved his hand towards Steve, encompassing his injuries as his voice trailed off.

Steve's stomach flipped, nauseated. "What is it? Did something happen to her?" he demanded, while at the same time, afraid to hear the answer.

"No, nothing like that," Danny reassured, shaking his head. "It's just…" he paused, apparently gathering his thoughts before continuing, "…she took things hard after you disappeared. She waited for you. And she looked for you. But after a year or so, she just couldn't be in Hawaii anymore." Danny shifted uncomfortably in his chair before continuing. "She said it made her too sad, thinking about you all the time. So she transferred to DC, Steve. To a desk job."

Steve sat there, dumbfounded for a moment. But only for a moment.

"Do you have her number?" he asked.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "I'll get it for you."

"You know what?" Steve said, rising from the table. "Never mind. I remember her cell."

*H50*

An hour later, Steve was in a slightly better mood.

He'd been able to reach Catherine and they talked for almost 45 minutes, catching up and saying what needed to be said. It wasn't until after they hung up that Steve realized he didn't ask her for help.

But that was ok. She would visit the first week she could get off from work; they could try to sort out their personal relationship then. As for the professional one… he would just put it on hold. After putting Cath through 19 months of agony, Steve couldn't bring himself to call her back and ask for a favor. She'd been through enough. It was time he started treating her like, well, like a whatever she was, and not like a source of Intel.

"So, where are we?" he asked as he joined the others in the bullpen.

"I expanded the parameters. I'm pulling the port records for all of Oahu for the entire month you disappeared," Chin replied as he worked his magic, documents and pictures flying onto the big screen. "I should be finished in another 10 minutes or so."

"Good," Steve said with a nod. "How about you two?" he asked, walking over and joining Danny at a table covered in print-outs. Kono sat a few feet away at a desk, printing off more documents.

"You said the ship was a freighter, right?" Danny asked. Steve nodded in the affirmative. "Ok, then," Danny continued, "we're pulling all the cargo manifests of freighters, thinking you might have seen something on board; maybe what the ship was carrying."

Steve worked his jaw and nodded slowly. "That makes sense. I didn't remember seeing anything yet, but that doesn't mean I didn't see something at some point."

Danny smiled. "That's what I thought. Here," he said, pulling out a chair, "sit down and take a look."

Steve sat down and took a stack of papers Danny handed to him as Kono added another stack to the table. The first manifest was for newsprint. The second one, for goats.

"I hope I wasn't on the goat boat," Steve mumbled.

"Nice rhyme, Boss" Kono commented with a smile.

Danny couldn't help but grin, either. "Well, that would explain the smell when I picked you up. And the residual stubbornness."

Steve grinned back, still scanning the document. "I thought we already established I was stubborn before I disappeared."

"We did. But that still leaves the smell…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Steve said dismissively. "I took a shower."

"And the Camaro and I thank you for it."

Steve snorted. "What, are the two of you going steady or something now? When did the Camaro become a person?"

Danny shrugged. "Since you disappeared and I started talking to myself. She's a really good listener, by the way; much better than you. She even lets me pick the music."

Steve looked up and grinned. "Would you like for me to disappear again so you can go back to listening to bad music and talking to your car like the crazy cat lady?"

"Well," Danny hedged, grinning, "we did go to all the trouble of looking for you. It seems like a waste to dump your butt back on the pineapple farm so soon."

"That's what I thought," Steve said, still grinning, as he put the goat manifest aside.

He flipped through several more invoices—chemicals, meat, jewelry, aircraft parts, motor oil—until one manifest caught his eye.

It was for a freighter from Vietnam for silk; raw silk, to be precise.

Steve stared at the words—raw silk. Silk was a common export from China and Southeast Asia. But something about that word combination seemed… familiar.

Kono noticed Steve's concentration. "Boss, is there something wrong?" she asked.

Raw silk… raw silk…

_Steve wanted to laugh._

_There was no way he would ever allow Stickers to use him. And if Stickers thought so, then he was delusional. _

_He tried to say as much but since the sock was still in Steve's mouth, talking was impossible._

_Stickers looked over at Bert and inclined his head toward Steve. Bert immediately walked over and ripped the duct tape from Steve's mouth, clearly relishing the small amount of pain he was able to inflict on Steve in retaliation for the incident in the stairs. _

_The duct tape now gone, Steve spit the sock out onto the table and coughed a few times. His mouth was as dry as a desert but he wasn't about to ask for water. He worked his mouth for a few moments, trying to gather enough saliva to speak. Stickers, Bert, and Ernie just watched, apparently amused, which angered Steve all the more. But he remained calm. Deadly calm._

_Finally, he was able to talk. "I will never help you," he said, his voice dry and grating, and the mere effort of speaking made him cough several times._

"_But you haven't even heard my offer yet," Stickers pointed out. "I think you'll find it would be good for both of us."_

_Steve shook his head. "I don't need to hear your offer," he rasped, licking his dry, cracked lips before continuing. "The answer is no."_

_Stickers shook his head. "Things will go so much better for you if you just agree now," he warned._

_But Steve wasn't scared. He had been in a lot of tight situations before, both as a SEAL and with Five-0. And one thing he learned over the years was that half the time, the bad guys were bluffing. He had to hope this was one of those times. And even if it wasn't, the game wasn't over yet. Instead of dwelling on maybes, he would be better off keeping his cool and trying to find a way out of this situation. And the longer he could keep the conversation going, the more time he would have to figure something out before things got ugly. _

"_I'm not afraid of you," Steve replied._

"_Maybe not." Stickers cocked his head and looked Steve straight in the eye before continuing. "But I think you'll find I can be really… persuasive."_

"_There is nothing you can possibly say to make me work with you," Steve said plainly, as if trying to explain something to an obstinate child. _

_Stickers shook his head again, almost like he pitied Steve. "You still don't get it." He looked over his shoulder and jerked his head toward the door. Ernie opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. Stickers turned back to Steve and smiled as he waited. _

_Steve used the time to covertly work on his bindings, which he had been doing ever since he woke up at the table. But they still would not budge. Whoever tied him up knew what they were doing, which was hardly a reassuring thought. _

_But criminals still bluff half the time, Steve reminded himself. Maybe Wang Lee had already used up the bad half- the deadly, non-bluffing half- leaving Steve a bit more leverage. After all, if Stickers really wanted Steve dead, he'd already be dead, no matter what Stickers said about cowardice. But instead, Steve was alive. That meant he was valuable. _

_Why? He didn't know. _

_But things of value were hard to part with, even for criminals. _

_Especially for criminals._

_Stickers was bluffing. Steve was sure of it._

_Until the door opened._

_And suddenly, Steve wasn't sure anymore._

_Ernie shoved a girl toward Stickers, who grabbed her by the arm roughly and turned her to face Steve. The girl was young—nine, maybe ten at most. She was thin, wearing an old, faded, pink-flowered dress, and clearly trembling. Her long brown hair was unkempt and it looked like she had not bathed in days. Steve couldn't pinpoint her nationality because she was staring down at the table, but she was definitely Asian. _

_Stickers took the girl by the chin, forcing her to look up. She bit her lip and cried but still did not look at Steve as tears flowed silently down her face. Stickers either didn't notice or didn't care. _

_Or this was exactly what he wanted in the first place._

_Stickers smiled at Steve; a cold, calculating smile. He brushed the dark hair off the girl's forehead, to the side, and tucked it behind her ear. The little girl shuddered, but did not move._

_Steve felt sick._

"_She's lovely, isn't she?" Stickers asked, still stroking the girl's hair. "The finest 'raw silk' in all of Asia."_

_Steve felt even more sick._

"_You see," Stickers continued, "this is what we import on this ship. Raw silk. You'd be surprised to know how many people can't wait to get their hands on a girl like her."_

_Actually, Steve knew all too well how large the demand for children was. But that didn't make the current situation any less nauseating. Or infuriating._

_Steve wanted to leap across the table and strangle Stickers with his bare hands. He knew Bert and Ernie would kill him if he did, but it would almost be worth it anyway. But his hands were still bound behind his back and if he killed Stickers, what would become of the little girl?_

_As hard as it was, he knew he had to remain cool. Remain calm. Think of a way out of this, both for him and the girl- that was really the only option. _

_Stickers dropped his hand from the girl's hair and looked at Steve. "As I was telling you before, we can work out something that benefits us both."_

_Steve clenched his jaw. "What's that?" _

_He really didn't care what Stickers had in mind, but knowing what it was couldn't hurt. Steve might be able to leverage it back against him. _

"_There are a lot of cops in Hawaii and Asia who don't like what we do," Stickers began. "They want to shut us down. Many of them can be bought, of course, but that really cuts into our profits." Stickers shook his head, as if it was the worst thing in the world. Not the trafficking of innocent children, but the loss of money. _

"_But if we had you," Stickers continued, "you could help us evade the authorities altogether. No jail. No bribes. Just us, running our business, without the local cops sticking their noses in and their hands out. Sounds great, doesn't it?"_

_Steve thought it sounded horrendous but didn't say so; he still needed stall for time. _

"_So, I'm your 'get out of jail free card'," Steve clarified tersely. "What do I get in return?" _

_Stickers leaned forward, his arms on the table. "You get to live." He smiled. "And if you do well, I'll give you a share of the profits. And if you do your job really well, I might let you keep a girl for your own."_

_Steve shook his head, the bile rising in his throat. He was disgusted and repulsed by everything Stickers had said; everything he stood for. _

"_There is no way I'm helping you," he spat at Stickers for what seemed like the hundredth time, his calm beginning to erode._

_Stickers sighed heavily. "I was afraid you were going to say that." He looked over his shoulder at Ernie, who handed him a Glock. Stickers pulled back on the slide, loading a round into the chamber, and then leveled the pistol at the little girl's head. She began to sob even harder, her thin dress now wet from tears._

_And Steve's calm dissolved. _

_He tried to hold back the onslaught of déjà vu, but it was too strong. He couldn't help but remember what happened the last time an innocent person had a gun held to their head because of him. But this time, he told himself, it would be different. _

_It would be. _

_It had to be._

_Stickers intent was obvious, but he confirmed it anyway._

"_You will help us," he said, "or she dies." _

_Steve didn't doubt him; not for one second. Stickers wasn't bluffing anymore, and evidently, he never had been. It bothered Steve that he had miscalculated and misjudged him. But that didn't bother him nearly as much as much as the fact that while Steve was valuable to Stickers, the little girl clearly was not. He would kill her. He would kill her and not even blink._

_Stickers watched as the emotion flickered across Steve's face for a brief second._

_And he pressed harder. _

"_If you don't agree, do you know what will happen?" Stickers asked, playing off Steve's thinly veiled emotions. "I'll kill her. And then I'll bring in another girl and I'll kill her, too." _

_No… no… no… _

"_This could go on all day." Stickers smiled a sickening smile, going in for the kill. "I have plenty of raw silk available." _

_Steve sat there, horrified, his mind reeling. _

"_So, Commander McGarrett," Stickers asked, his voice completely calm, "what's it going to be?"_

_To be continued… _


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: It looks like we might have lost a few readers with the last chapter. I'm not sure if people are busy this week or if I scared them off. (And if I did, that's ok. This story might not be for everyone.)

But I do want to thank all of you who are hanging in there with me. I really do appreciate it and I'll do my best to not let you down.

* * *

Chapter 6

"Steve?"

Danny quickly glanced at Kono. She had stopped working and was watching Steve as well, looking as concerned as Danny felt.

Danny turned back to look at his partner, who was zoned out and staring into space. He had seen that look before—last night, when Steve had a flashback in the car. However, he had been distracted by driving at the time and, for a while, thought his friend had fallen asleep. But now that Danny was watching a memory unfold up close and personal, it was a bit disturbing. Not to mention, it reminded him a lot of Zombie Steve and Danny had been hoping to never see that person again.

All of a sudden, Steve seemed to snap out of it and sucked in a large breath of air, his eyes wide.

"Steve?" Danny asked again, worried, as he reached out and touched him on the arm to ground him.

Steve jerked his arm away, startled, and Danny wasn't even sure if his partner even knew he was there.

"Hey, look at me," he said, trying to get his partner's attention.

It didn't work.

Steve jumped up and fled the room.

"Kono, cover the exits," Danny commanded as he left the room, following after him.

Steve quickly walked past his office, which surprised Danny, and headed straight for the men's room. He stiff-armed the door and before Danny could get there, he heard a loud crash.

"Chin!" Danny yelled to the lieutenant, who had looked up from the smart table when he hurried by, "call Max!"

Chin nodded, a response Danny didn't see because he was too busy throwing open the men's room door, afraid of what he might find on the other side.

The good news was there was less blood than he was expecting.

The bad news was there was still blood.

"Hey," Danny asked gently, holding out his hands in front of his body, palms out, in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. "You ok?"

Steve didn't reply. He didn't even look at Danny. Instead, he was pacing in small circles in the lavatory area, his hands on his hips. His right hand was bleeding profusely, three of his knuckles split open. Blood was running down onto his cargo pants but he didn't seem to notice. A metal paper-towel holder lay mangled on the floor, apparently the victim.

Danny took a step closer. "Steve?"

Steve still didn't respond; didn't acknowledge him in any way. And Danny wasn't entirely sure if his friend knew he was there or not.

"McGarrett!"

This time, Steve stopped pacing and looked up. He was still visibly upset, but not quite as crazed as he looked in the conference room before. Apparently, knocking the paper towel holder off the wall helped calm him down in some sort of backwards-logic Rambo kind of way.

"You ok?" Danny asked.

Although, he already knew the answer. Danny had been able to read his partner like a book from day one and today was no exception. Steve was upset. He was confused. And he was angry. Very , very angry.

So, in a nutshell, no, Steve was not ok.

And Danny knew it. The question was- did Steve?

"No, Danny!" Steve yelled, the vein in his neck bulging. "I'm not ok!" He kept pacing in circles; erratic, frantic circles.

"Ok," Danny responded calmly, glad that at least his partner recognized how off-kilter he was. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!"

Danny blew out a large breath. That wasn't quite the response he was hoping for, so it was time to approach the situation from a different angle.

"We want to help you, Babe. We do," Danny said, using his best hostage negotiator voice. "But we can't do that if you don't tell us what's going on inside that head of yours."

Danny could only hope his appeal to logic would work. After all, what he said made sense. A whole lot of sense, actually. There was no way Five-0 was going to catch the bad guys without Steve and his memories. Danny, Chin, and Kono all knew it and it was clear Steve seemed to be considering it, too. Danny could see the wheels turning in his partner's head as his pacing grew gradually slower and slower. Danny didn't say anything while he watched, afraid he might jinx it, but the second Steve stopped pacing altogether, he knew he had him.

"Good," he said with a nod. "Now, would you like to tell me what you remembered?"

"I'm not sure you want to know," Steve said quietly, not meeting his partner's eyes.

"Try me."

Steve sighed heavily and stared at the ground.

Danny waited.

Finally, Steve looked up, pain evident in his eyes. "They were trafficking girls," he said, his voice cracking a bit. "Little girls."

Danny was stunned.

He had slept miserably the night before, tossing and turning, afraid of what horrors Steve might dredge up if he got more of his memories back. And of all the terrible scenarios he envisioned, the trafficking of little girls had never entered his mind. Not even once.

He stared, watching as Steve looked back down and chewed on his bottom lip to keep his emotions in check. And Danny felt sick. Just sick. On a scale of 1 to 10 for repulsion, he personally placed anyone who harmed a child at about a 100. No wonder Steve was so upset.

But Steve was also right. Danny really didn't want to know. The disgust he felt as a cop for people who trafficked children was totally eclipsed by the horror he felt as a father to a daughter. A part of him wanted to just end the conversation right there; just to pretend it never happened, that the words had never been said. But Danny didn't join the police force to bury his head in the sand. And he didn't sign up to be Steve's partner and friend just to bail on him when he needed him the most.

As much as it bothered him, the only way for him to help McGarrett and catch the traffickers was to get more information. He allowed Steve a few more moments to collect himself before pressing on.

"Who were?"

"The guys on the freighter."

"The same guys as before?" Danny clarified. "The one with the tattoos and the two thugs?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

"How do you know they had girls?" Danny asked gently, knowing he was treading on a potential landmine.

But instead of exploding in anger, Steve crumbled. He looked down and closed his eyes tightly, his hands still on his hips as he breathed in even, measured breaths to keep it together.

Finally, he was able to respond.

"They brought a girl into the room. She was nine, maybe ten; tiny and thin. And scared to death." He paused, took a few deep breaths, and then continued. "They put a gun to her head and said they said if I didn't help, they would kill her; her and all the other girls," he finished quietly, then brought his injured hand up to shield his eyes.

Danny's stomach dropped even farther. It was even worse than he imagined. Danny liked to talk and rant and complain and was rarely at a loss for words. But this time, he was. He simply had no idea what to say.

But he knew what to do.

He reached out and grasped Steve on the shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as his partner regrouped. Finally, Steve rubbed his eyes and dropped his hand, leaving smudges of blood on his face.

"You ok?"

Steve sniffed. "Yeah."

He really didn't look ok but Danny decided "ok" was relative at this point. And he had to hope, to trust, that getting Steve to talk would also help him sort out his emotions so he could feel better. Although, he realized, "better" was also relative. Still, he had to keep going.

"What happened next?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't know. That's all I remember."

Danny sighed. He couldn't decide if not knowing what happened next was a blessing or a curse. But one look at his partner's face told him it was probably the latter.

"Ok, then," he said, squeezing Steve's shoulder one more time before dropping his hand. "How about you get washed up and then we'll let Max take a look at that hand of yours?"

"Max is here?" Steve asked, his brows knit together in confusion.

"He probably is by now. I asked Chin to call him when you were going all Muhammad Ali on the towel holder. And you know how he likes to drive fast, even without a reason."

Steve looked down at the dented metal, chagrinned. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Danny rolled his eyes and gave a small grin. "Whatever. Just get cleaned up. You look like a red raccoon."

Steve washed his face quickly and was drying it when he stopped and looked at Danny through the mirror.

"D?"

"Hmm?"

Steve threw the paper towel in the trash, turned, and rested against the sink, looking down.

"What if I helped them?" he asked, quietly.

"Where did that come from?" Danny replied, surprise evident in his voice.

Steve shrugged. "If I didn't, why did it take so long for me to turn up? If I refused, they would have killed me and my body would have washed up on shore 19 months ago. If it was ever found at all."

Danny hated to admit it, but Steve had a point. A horrible, gruesome point, but a point nonetheless. But one that he would reject on principle alone.

Danny shook his head. "There's no way you would have helped them. There's got to be another answer."

"Like what?"

Danny threw up his hands. "I don't know! Maybe you overpowered the bad guys, then drove the ship to Tahiti and drank Mai Tais on the beach until you came to your senses and came home! The point is you didn't do it. You just wouldn't, never in a million years. And that's all there is to it."

Steve appeared to consider Danny's words. And after a moment, he slowly nodded and looked up. "Piloted," he corrected. "You don't drive a ship, you pilot it."

Danny was tempted to get irritated but was so glad Steve was starting to sound more like himself that he let it slide. "And here I thought you would balk about the Mai Tais."

A hint of a grin tugged at the corner of Steve's mouth. "Well, that too. But I know how you like girly drinks, so I wasn't going to bring it up."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny waved his hand and grinned, then opened the door and held it. "After you, Ali."

*H50*

"Be sure to keep these dry for at least 24 hours," Max said as he finished stitching Steve's right hand. Then he began wrapping over the knuckles with white gauze to keep them clean. "I will also ask that you refrain from assaulting unarmed bathroom fixtures in the future. While I am eager to help, my schedule does not always permit me to render my services."

"I'll keep that in mind," Steve said with a nod. "And thanks, Max."

"My pleasure, Commander," Max replied as he taped the gauze.

"You done?" Kono asked as she popped her head into Steve's office.

"Why? You got something?" Steve asked.

"Not yet," she admitted. "But we could use your help."

"Then your timing is fortuitous," Max said, tucking the last of his supplies into his bag. "I was just leaving."

They all left Steve's office together, Max making his way to the door while Kono and Steve stopped at the smart table, where Chin and Danny were already looking at port records. They had quickly gotten to work after Danny filled them in.

"What have you got?" Steve asked.

"Not much yet," Chin confessed. "The manifest that triggered your memory was for a ship named The Hinuhinu. It's based in Vietnam and primarily does runs between Ho Chi Minh City and Honolulu."

"And where is it now?" Steve asked.

"Somewhere in the middle of the ocean," Chin replied. "It left Ho Chi Minh City ten days ago and it's not scheduled to arrive until late tomorrow afternoon."

"So it's too far out to fly a helicopter to it," Steve mumbled.

Chin nodded. "Not to mention, it's in international waters. We'd have no jurisdiction."

Steve scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was wait over 24 hours to board the Hinuhinu. "So where does that leave us? We can't just sit around while we wait for it."

Chin shook his head. "We're not going to."

"That's why we need your help," Kono interjected, looking apologetic. "We have to consider the possibility that the Hinuhinu is not the only ship in the operation."

Steve closed his eyes as the implication sank in. More ships… and more girls. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse.

And that just made it more unbearable—the fact that he hadn't thought of it. He knew he was exhausted and running on fumes. He also knew he had a concussion, which was undoubtedly slowing his thought process, although he was ignoring it along with the headaches and fatigue, pretending that if he didn't acknowledge them, they didn't exist. But none of those reasons were an excuse for missing the obvious- that the Hinuhinu might only be one player in a larger operation.

He opened his eyes again, looking at the ceiling as he thought out loud. "We need to check the manifests of all the ships docking in Honolulu."

Chin nodded. "The Port of Honolulu receives thousands of cargo ships a year. Combing through all of the manifests is going to take too long. Do you remember anything else that could help us narrow down our search?"

Steve concentrated, trying to place himself back on the ship. He remembered he was on a freighter, a small one. And he had sensed movement, which meant they were moving at a good clip. "It was a small freighter, but I don't think it was loaded that heavily."

"Why's that?" Danny asked.

"It was moving too fast," Steve replied.

Chin flicked the Hinuhinu manifest up on the board. "It shows the Hinuhinu was carrying furniture as well as raw silk. Are you saying the furniture wasn't on board?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't know. It could have been carrying aluminum patio sets or some other lightweight furniture. All I know it was making good time."

"How good?" Danny asked.

"Ten, maybe fifteen percent faster than normal."

"Based on what we've seen, an average trip for a freighter that size is 13-14 days," Kono said. "If they shaved off that much time, they could probably make the crossing in 11-12 days."

"So we need to look for small freighters with a shorter than average time between docks," Danny reasoned.

Chin nodded. "We should be able to do that. Then we'll check the manifests of any of the freighters that match our criteria." He looked at Steve. "But it's going to take some time."

That was the last thing Steve wanted to hear. "We don't have time. More importantly, those _girls _don't have time," he replied as he pointed to the smart board, getting agitated.

"Hey," Danny intervened, "we'll get them, remember?"

"We'd get them a hell of a lot faster if I could just remember what happened," Steve pointed out, his voice growing louder.

"And you will, Babe. It's only been two days."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "Two days of me _doing nothing_. Just like I've apparently been doing nothing for _19 months."_

"We don't know that Boss," Kono pointed out.

"Then what exactly have I been doing?" Steve questioned, throwing his hand toward the manifest on the screen. "Obviously, I didn't stop it. The Hinuhinu docks again in tomorrow afternoon, carrying more raw silk. More _girls._ _So just what the hell have I been doing_?"

Steve wasn't really expecting an answer and the three blank faces staring back at him confirmed he wouldn't be getting one.

Because the truth was nobody knew what he'd been doing during that time, not even him. And that just made it all the more frustrating. His friends believed in him, trusted him.

And now, he didn't even know if he trusted himself.

"You know what? I'm going out," he announced, then turned and walked out the door.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or upset when nobody followed him.

*H50*

Steve would have loved to have gone for a swim to clear his head, but after Max went to all the trouble to stitch up his hand, he thought he should at least honor the Doctor's wishes and keep it dry. Besides, he was out of plastic bags.

So instead, he settled for taking a drive in the Marquis. He was somewhat surprised that it still ran but apparently Mary had been firing it up once in a while to keep the battery charged. He'd have to remember to thank her later.

As he topped the Pali highway, his replacement cell phone rang again. He didn't even need to glance down to know it was Danny calling. He didn't know this because he had already assigned a silly ringtone like Danny did on his phone, but because Danny had been calling him every 5 minutes for the last half-hour. Apparently, he was slow in getting the message that Steve didn't want to talk.

That was another reason he was glad he was in the Marquis. If he was driving the Silverado, Danny would probably be calling him over the police radio as well. At least here, with the top down and the engine humming in the breeze, he could ignore the cell phone a little easier.

It was a little harder to ignore the Camaro when it pulled up behind him.

Steve sighed. Obviously, Danny was in a stubborn mood today.

Well, Danny wasn't the only one.

So Steve kept driving.

Finally, Danny apparently had enough and squawked the Camaro's siren at him a few times before turning on the police lights. Then he sped up and around the Marquis, passing the car and cutting him off. Steve had no choice but to stop.

Danny stepped out of the Camaro, looking displeased, and brusquely walked back to Steve, who was still sitting in the car. "License and registration?" he deadpanned.

Steve rolled his eyes. "How did you find me?"

"Chin activated the GPS in your phone."

Of course. Steve made a mental note to leave his phone at home the next time he wanted privacy.

"So what do you want, Danny?"

"I want you to stop being a moron, for one. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Because obviously, I didn't want to talk," he replied, plainly.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm not here to talk," Danny countered.

"Then why _are _you here?" Steve asked, his face scrunched up into something Danny would have a name for.

"I'm here because we found another shipment of raw silk coming into dock. Which of course, you would've already known if you'd just _picked up your phone._"

Point taken, Steve moved on. "When's it coming in?" he asked.

"At ten," Danny replied, looking down at his watch. "That gives us almost three hours to get ready."

Steve nodded, resolutely. "I'm coming with you."

Danny snorted. "Of course you're coming with us. Why else would I track you down?"

Steve shrugged. "I thought you just wanted an excuse to lecture me and use your lights."

"Well, that too." Then Danny grinned. "Now, let's stop wasting time. We've got some little girls to rescue."

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"So, what do we have?" Steve asked as he, Danny, Chin, and Kono gathered back in the Five-0 headquarters 45 minutes later.

"The Chì Lóng," Chin replied, flicking a picture of a rusted red and black boat onto the screen. "It's a Chinese freighter based in Shanghai that has a history of making unusually fast runs to Honolulu."

"Just like the Hinuhinu," Steve murmured.

"Exactly," Chin agreed with a nod. "And the similarities don't end there. We pulled all records for the Chì Lóng ." He paused and looked Steve straight in the eye. "It also left port the 17th, the night you went missing."

"Then why didn't we find it earlier?" Steve asked, surprised.

"Clerical error," Kono explained. "The digital records show the Chì Lóng left port on September 17th,, a month before you disappeared. But when we pulled the hard copies of the manifests, it actually left on October 17th. Someone just entered the wrong date."

Steve stood still for a moment, processing. Two boats had left the night he disappeared, making a run between Honolulu and Asia. And one of them had probably taken Steve along for the ride.

"So this could be the freighter," he concluded.

Kono nodded. "Maybe. It's most likely fifty-fifty at this point."

"And we know for sure it has girls on board?" Steve asked.

"Pretty sure," Danny replied. "Their manifest shows they are carrying Styrofoam in addition to raw silk. And today is the eleventh day of their voyage so they are making good time."

That was enough for Steve. "Ok," he nodded. "Let's go get them."

"We will," Danny confirmed as he looked at his watch. "HPD will be here to coordinate in 10 minutes. Steve, can I see you a sec?" he asked, then jerked his head toward his office.

Steve exchanged glances with Chin and Kono, but they looked as curious as he did. He wasn't sure why Danny wanted to see him alone, but as he followed him out the door, he had the sinking feeling he was being sent to the principal's office.

Once inside the office, Danny closed the door. He blew a large breath and clasped his hands before beginning. "You know I want you to come with us tonight, right? That's why I came and got you. Otherwise, I would have just let you drive that old clunker all night until it broke down."

"Yeah…" Steve said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And it did.

"I can't let you lead the raid," Danny told him simply.

"What? Why not?" Steve demanded.

"For a lot of reasons. Four of which I can think of off the top of my head."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Such as?"

"For one," Danny said, counting on his fingers as he went, "you haven't been cleared for duty. I've been dodging the Governor's calls all day so he couldn't tell me to sideline you. Immunity and means only go so far and we're pushing it already as it is. Letting you go in first, guns blazing, is just asking for it."

Steve paused. Honestly, he hadn't given the Governor a second's thought. Danny told him the night before he was in Five-0 so that had been good enough for him. Besides, Steve had never been much for rules so this point really didn't bother him at all. Ask forgiveness, not permission had pretty much been his motto. It had worked fine in the past and there was no reason to think it wouldn't work now. He opened his mouth to about to say so but Danny kept speaking.

"Two," Danny continued, "you might be a bit rusty."

"Hey," Steve protested, "I've been firing sidearms and running ops forever. It's just like riding a bike. And you heard the doctor say I've been exercising and taking care of myself. That's a bogus reason and you know it."

"Really?" Danny countered. "It's been 19 months since you've been on a raid, Steve, much less led one. I know you probably have some super-awesome SEAL muscle memory thing going on but this also requires your head to be in the game. It also means we need to know what you're thinking before you say it. And right now, we don't."

"My head's in the game," Steve argued.

"Which leads me to point three," Danny said as he ticked it off on his finger. "You have_ amnesia._"

Steve scoffed. "My long term memory is fine."

"That's true," Danny agreed. "But we are going onto a boat that might be where you were kidnapped and held. And I don't know if you realize this or not but when you have a flashback, you freeze. _Completely._ And you stay that way for a while. If you do that on the front end of the raid, you're _dead._ And probably not just you." He pointed to the bullpen. "Chin. Kono. HPD. And need I say _me_? You're not just putting your life on the line, but all of ours as well."

Steve wanted to have a comeback for that. But even with his take-no-prisoners/break-down-the-door-and-ride-the-motorcycle-up-the-stairs approach to busting criminals, he really did care about the safety of his people, no matter what Danny had said to the contrary on the first day they worked together. So really, he had no comeback. No comeback at all.

But he wasn't ready to concede. Not quite yet.

He chewed his lip as he thought, then looked up. "That was number three. You said there were four reasons."

Danny leaned back against his desk and sighed. He glanced down at the floor for a moment before looking at Steve in the eye. "Don't make me say it."

He didn't have to.

Steve knew what exactly he meant.

Danny was pulling rank.

Or perhaps more accurately, he was trying _not_ to pull rank. But he was doing it nonetheless.

Danny was in command of Five-0 and had been for 19 months. Steve was no longer in charge. And it wasn't his decision to make.

Not anymore.

Steve chewed on his lip some more, his face scrunched up, as he processed. "So, what? You want me to stay on shore and mop up?"

Danny shook his head. "No. I want you in on the raid. But you can't lead. And you can't be one of the first people on the ship. "

Steve frowned.

"Look, Steve. I'm not really happy about it, either," Danny said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "But I have to put the safety of my men first."

It was subtle, and it probably wasn't even intentional, but Steve still caught it.

Danny had said "my" men.

The thing was, yesterday they had been "his" men. Steve's men.

But it hadn't been yesterday. It had been 19 months ago. And whether he liked it or not, times had changed. People had moved on.

Which only left Steve wondering where he fit in now.

And if he even fit in at all.

"So, are we good?" Danny asked, clearly hoping the discussion was over.

No, he wasn't good.

And he wouldn't be good until this was all over—until he knew what happened, until he caught the men responsible, until he brought them to justice.

But that wasn't what Danny was asking. Nor was he asking if Steve was good with _him_; if_ they_ were ok.

That one was easy. They were pretty much always ok. Sure, they might fight but they also had the innate male ability to yell at each other and then go out and grab a few beers fifteen minutes later like nothing had ever happened.

What Danny was really asking was if Steve could accept his position; and more importantly, if Steve would trust him. Trust him to lead the raid, trust him to get it done, trust him to know what was best for everyone involved.

That one was trickier. Because they both knew Steve wasn't happy with his role in the raid. He had always been far better suited to be the quarterback than a benchwarmer and being virtually regaled to third string did not sit well with him. At all.

But Danny was also Steve's partner and best friend; a man who had stuck beside him for better and for even more worse. It wasn't an easy job, that was sure, and Danny never missed an opportunity to complain about it. But all grumbling aside, he had always been there; always supporting Steve even when he wasn't crazy about his decisions.

And Steve would do the same.

So he sighed. And then he nodded.

"Yeah, Danny. We're good."

*H50*

At five minutes before ten o'clock, Kono saw it.

"Right on time," she said, talking into her comm.

"Everybody hold," Danny replied, communicating with not only Five-0 but also with the SWAT team from HPD. A few more black-and-whites as well as two ambulances were on alert three blocks away, their lights off, just waiting for word in case they were needed. In addition, six undercover police officers were already on the dock, playing the parts of dock workers, fishermen, and even a bum.

Steve hunched behind the bushes twenty feet away from the water with Duke Lukela. He had a sneaking suspicion that Danny had tagged the HPD sergeant to keep Steve safe in case he had a flashback on the freighter- a small tidbit of information Danny neglected to share earlier in his office. While Steve wasn't crazy about having a babysitter and thought it was gross overkill, at least he understood. And if he had to be watched over by someone, at least it was Duke.

He watched as the boat slowly approached. From his vantage point, he could see all the officers in play, hiding in the shadows, ready to spring into action once they were given the word. But from the boat, they would be hidden, actually downright invisible.

Steve had to hand it to Danny, the man knew how to run an operation. Not that Steve really ever had any doubts.

Danny had always been a great partner and a great number two. He could stand up to Steve and get through to him like nobody else could. That had been a big change. In the military, men followed orders and wouldn't dream of questioning up the chain of command. But it didn't take long for Steve to realize he was a better leader, and that he had a better team, with Danny there beside him.

Now, it was Chin on point beside Danny as they waited. And it just felt… weird. But he pushed it from his mind in order to focus. He'd told Danny his head would be in the game and Steve wasn't a liar.

Besides, he wanted these men. He wanted them badly.

The boat was now only a few feet from shore. A deckhand on the bow of the Chì Lóng tossed a dock line to the undercover officer, who tied the boat off, tethering the boat to the pier. Steve waited patiently as the captain turned the wheel away from land, allowing the stern to pull in gently. The deckhand tossed another line and the officer tied it onto the bollard, the boat now secure at both ends.

It was time.

"Go," Steve heard Danny say through his earpiece.

He watched as the officer posing as the dock worker quickly jumped aboard, wrapped his hand around the deckhand's mouth from behind and stuck a gun in his side, effectively silencing him.

The deckhand now neutralized, Danny and Chin led the charge onto the Chì Lóng with half a dozen members of the SWAT team. They were followed closely by Kono and a second wave of SWAT members. Five seconds later, it was Steve's turn, as he, Duke, and the other members of the third team made a silent dash for the freighter.

Steve easily jumped the few feet separating the dock from the boat and hit the deck in a dead run. He could hear voices already coming from below- commands for people to get down, the confused shouts of the boat crew, in English, Hawaiian and Mandarin. As he ran down the first flight of stairs, he heard something else.

A gunshot.

Then another. And another.

And then he lost count as a volley of gunfire broke out.

Steve practically leapt down the final four stairs and tore down the hall, his SIG P226 held out in front of him, sweeping with Duke at his back as he went. He heard an echo of "clears", "get downs", and "hand behind your heads" as the members of the first two waves secured the rooms on the first level. But he still didn't' see his team.

He rushed down a second flight of stairs at the end of the hallway, trying to find them. Like on the deck above, he heard a chorus of commands and acknowledgements called out to the other law officers on board. He stepped over two dead boat crew members who were laid out in the hallway, their semi-automatic weapons still in their hands, their blood pooling on the floor.

But still, Steve didn't find his team. He tore down to the stairs to the third and final level, Duke now trailing far behind.

And there, he found them.

He saw Kono first. She was standing in a doorway, holding a gun on an unknown man inside. She nodded once, indicating she was good. So Steve pressed on.

A few doors down, he found Chin securing handcuffs on a man who was lying face down. He also nodded that he was ok.

"Danny?" Steve mouthed, not wanting to be overheard by potential unfriendlies.

"Down the hall," Chin replied, keeping his voice low.

Steve ran out the door and down the hall. He stopped at an intersection and looked both ways, searching for his partner.

There, he found Danny.

And Steve's heart stopped.

Danny was standing completely still, looking through an open doorway down the hallway on the right, his gun lowered.

Steve recovered quickly. He instinctively pulled to the right side of the hallway and silently edged his way down, unsure of who was inside and how many guns they had on his partner. When he got a few feet away, he paused, not wanting to tip the assailants off to his presence.

But it didn't matter. Danny glanced at him, his face completely devastated, giving away any advantage Steve might have had. Then he turned his attention back inside the room.

"It's ok," Danny murmured.

Steve still didn't lower his gun, not believing that his partner would give up so easily.

No matter what Danny said, it was not ok. Seeing his partner, standing there defenseless, fair game for a room-full of thugs with guns, was not ok.

Not ok at all.

Steve slowly edged closer to the door, then cut his eyes sideways to try and get a glimpse inside.

And he realized why Danny told him it was ok.

In fact, he might not have been talking to Steve at all.

Instead, he was probably talking to the terrified young girls, all crammed together in the room like cattle, as they hid their faces and cried.

*H50*

The night sky swirled with red, blue, and white lights. They reflected and danced off the water, creating a scene that would be beautiful if the circumstances that created it weren't so horrific.

After securing the Chì Lóng, Danny called in the ambulances and police cars that were on standby. They immediately swarmed in and then even more were called in from dispatch. The ME's office was also called to come take away the two dead crewmen. Thankfully, none of the police officers were injured during the raid.

Emergency vehicles were stacked three deep up and down the harbor as the cops handcuffed the men on board and brought them up on the deck while the paramedics tended to the girls.

They rescued 17 girls in all. Most were dehydrated and malnourished. All of them were terrified and dirty. It was obvious that the care of the girls was a low priority for the crew of the Chì Lóng.

None of the girls spoke English and most were too traumatized to talk anyway. However, one girl—a bit older, maybe 13- told Steve in broken Mandarin that they were given a small amount of food twice a day. They barely had enough room to lie down to sleep and only had a few old blankets to share amongst themselves. They were only allowed to visit the bathroom across the hall on a schedule and even then, there were men standing guard in the hallway to make sure they didn't try to run away and look for food or hide. To say their living conditions were deplorable was an understatement.

When asked where they came from, the girl told him they were from all over China; some were runaways, some had been kidnapped, and a few had been sold by their families to the traffickers for a pittance and the promise of a better life in America. The only "bright side" to their story was that none of the girls had been sexually assaulted. To an outsider, that would sound like a nice gesture although Steve knew the only reason the girls had not been touched was that "pure" children commanded a higher price. It was out of greed, not kindness, that the girls had been left alone.

When the young girl was finished talking, Steve translated her story to the rest of Five-0. It made all of them sick.

Once all the girls had been escorted to the ambulances and taken to the hospital, Steve began quickly walking through the rooms. He wasn't trying to find evidence from the crime scene; Charlie Fong and the lab techs would be there soon enough to do that. Instead, he was trying to find something familiar, something that would trigger a memory.

Something that would tell him if this was the right boat; if this was where he was held.

He opened every door and peeked in every room, every closet, every corner. And all he had to show for it was… nothing.

And to think, Danny had been worried that Steve might have a flashback during the raid at the most inopportune time. But now here he was, on the freighter, trying to trigger a memory and it simply wasn't working.

The irony might have been funny if it wasn't so annoying.

Steve slammed the final door shut in frustration.

"Still nothing?" Danny asked. He had been walking through the freighter with Steve, watching him become more and more irritated with each passing minute.

Steve shook his head. "No. And I just knew this would be the one."

"Well, the Hinuhinu is scheduled to dock in about 18 hours," Danny said. "We'll be back for it. And we did rescue all the girls."

Steve sighed. "I know. And that's the important thing. It's just…"

"You wanted to catch the guys who kidnapped you," Danny said, completing Steve's thought.

Steve didn't even bother replying. The look on his face said it all.

"Ok," Danny said, clapping Steve on the back and turning him toward the stairs that lead to the deck, "let's go. We can interrogate the crew tomorrow, see what we find out."

They climbed the stairs in silence and then started to make their way across the stern toward the dock. Several of the crew members were still there, seated on the deck facing away from them with their hands cuffed behind their backs, as they awaited their transport to the police station. Steve was looking down at the ground and really wasn't paying attention.

That was, until something caught his eye.

Steve stopped dead in his tracks and stared.

One of the men on the ground had a tattoo on his arm, one of many. It was a red dragon partially obscured by a lotus flower. A red dragon… or, in Mandarin, a Chì Lóng.

Danny noticed his partner's abrupt stop and doubled back. "What is it?" he asked, confused.

Steve didn't reply. Instead, he quickly moved around the line of men until he was standing in front of the man with the tattoo. The man didn't seem to notice at first but then upon seeing Steve's boots, he looked up.

And then he smiled.

It was a surly smile, to be sure, but also one of certainty; one of acquaintance. Somehow, the man knew exactly who Steve was.

And Steve knew him too, although not by his proper name.

Instead, he knew him by his nickname, the one Steve had given him.

Stickers.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks for the response after the last chapter, guys! I loved reading your theories in reviews and pms. Hearing what you think and interacting is what makes fic fun so please, keep them coming! :)

* * *

Chapter 8

Danny didn't miss the look the man with the tattoos shot at Steve. He clearly recognized McGarrett and Danny couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't daring Steve to do something about it. Danny glanced over at his partner, whose eyes were burning with so much intensity that he wondered if laser beams were going to shoot out of them. It was obvious Steve recognized the tattoo guy, too. Which meant…

Crap, crap, crap.

He had to get Steve away from that man.

Now.

Danny reached out and grabbed Steve by the arm, hauling him away from the prisoners and toward the stern of the freighter.

Steve wasn't too happy about it. "Hey!" he protested, fighting off Danny's arm. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Keeping you from killing that guy," Danny replied as he grabbed Steve's arm again, leading him farther away and out of earshot.

Steve broke Danny's hold again but made no moves to go back. "I'm not going to kill him! I'm going to get some answers!"

"And I'm not convinced you won't kill him in the process."

"Do you know who he is?" Steve asked, pointing back at the line of prisoners to the man in question. "He's _Stickers_."

Danny nodded, not surprised by the revelation. "I guessed that from his lovely display of tattoos and the smoke coming out of your ears."

"So why are we over here talking instead of over there, interrogating him?" Steve demanded.

Danny had a whole host of reasons why. But they were not ones that Steve would want to hear.

First, he was afraid Steve would have a flashback in front of Stickers and his crew. As much as Danny wanted Steve to remember- both for the sake of Steve's sanity and so that they could bring the men to justice- showing the enemy your weaknesses was never a good thing. And right now, zoning out and freezing was a glaring weakness, one that Stickers would not hesitate to exploit given the opportunity. And the consequences could be deadly.

Second, interrogations always go better when the good guys were well-rested and put together and the bad guys were exhausted and on edge. And right now, that dynamic was glaringly reversed. Steve was running on fumes, not to mention the fact that he was still injured. He had never said a word about his concussion or cracked ribs or missing toenail either, for that matter, but injuries always took a toll on the body, even one as conditioned as Super-SEAL's. Add to that the mental exhaustion from flashbacks and Steve was simply spent, whether he knew it or not.

But Danny couldn't tell him any of that because he knew Steve would scoff at any mention of vulnerability, no matter how legitimate, and barrel right on ahead anyway. Instead, he would have to pull something out that Steve couldn't argue with. Of course, the man could argue with a brick wall so maybe it was better to aim for something Steve would argue against but ultimately lose.

"Because we have to book him down at HPD first," Danny stated.

"What? Since when do we book people before questioning them?"

"Since you left," Danny answered pointedly, but not unkindly. "We follow procedure a bit more now."

"What's the point of having immunity and means if you don't use them?" Steve asked, his anger rising as he gestured towards Stickers. "We should be getting answers right now! And instead we're going to twiddle our thumbs for hours waiting on paperwork?"

"No," Danny corrected, trying to ease the situation, "we're all going to go home and get some sleep while HPD puts him on ice and does their thing. Then we'll be back, first thing in the morning, to question him."

"And what if he lawyers up in the meantime?"

Danny shook his head. "He won't. I'll have Duke put him in the back of the line so it takes all night to process him. He won't have time to ask for a phone call before we get back to him."

"And what if that doesn't work?" Steve demanded.

"It will. I've done it before, Steve. Quite a few times, in fact." Danny smiled at his partner's suddenly perplexed expression. It was good to know Danny could still surprise him every once in a while.

Steve thought it over for a moment and then narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You're sure this will work?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Have some faith. Stickers will still be there in the morning, all bleary-eyed and exhausted and a hell of a lot closer to spilling his guts than he is now." He inconspicuously reached out and touched Steve's back, lightly guiding him off the ship and onto the dock. "And in the meantime, we'll all go home and get some sleep. Ok?"

Steve scrunched up his face and looked back onto the ship, to where Stickers and his men were now rising to their feet under the watchful eye of several HPD officers.

Danny knew Steve was still debating the plan in his head. It was time to clinch the deal.

"Hey Duke!" Danny called out to the Sergeant. Duke looked up from where he was overseeing the transportation of the captured men into the squad cars and came over.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

Danny inclined his head toward Stickers. "Make sure the guy with the dragon tattoo goes last. And give him some coffee with a few shots of espresso in it, too. And a really uncomfortable chair. We wouldn't want him to fall asleep."

Duke grinned. "Will do." Then he hurried back to his post.

Danny watched him go and then glanced over at Steve. He couldn't help but chuckle at the surprised look on his partner's face.

"Like you said," Danny explained with shrug and a smile, "what's the point of having immunity and means if you don't use them?"

*H50*

Steve hated to admit it, even to himself, but he felt better when he woke up the next morning. He had slept much better than the previous night, the exhaustion obviously pulling him under and keeping him there until seven a.m. He grabbed a quick shower and cup of coffee before heading to the office at seven-thirty.

Danny was already there, waiting for him, when he arrived. Steve didn't waste any time getting down to business.

"Is he in there?" he asked, indicating the blue interrogation room.

Danny nodded and then handed Steve a file, which he opened. A mug shot of Stickers stared back at him.

"His name is Yoon Song," Danny began. "Thirty-two. He was born and raised in Hawaii but has family in China, primarily Shanghai and Ningbo. He's spent a lot of time over there. He also has quite the rap sheet," he continued as Steve flipped through the file. "Mainly petty stuff years ago, no felonies to date. Either he was trying to keep his nose clean until recently…"

"Or he didn't caught," Steve said, finishing Danny's sentence.

"Exactly," Danny nodded. "And here is the remaining cast of characters," he said, handing Steve several more sheets, each of which contained multiple mug shots. "We got 14 scumbags in all, not including the two who got killed during the raid."

Steve took the sheets and looked through them carefully. On the third page, he stopped and pointed at the two mug shots on the bottom. "There they are," he said. "Bert and Ernie."

Danny looked and took the sheets back. "Ok, I'll call over to HPD and let them know. We'll cue them up next for questioning in case we don't get anything out of Song."

Steve nodded. "Alright." Then he looked down the hall toward the blue room.

Danny noticed. "You ready for this?" he asked.

Steve knew Danny was concerned but he also thought it was kind of a dumb question. Of course he was ready. Ready to find out what happened; ready to get some answers; ready for everyone to stop treating him like some fragile nutcase who might crack without warning at any given moment.

But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he jerked his head toward the blue room.

"Let's go."

*H50*

Song didn't appear to be all that fazed when Steve and Danny walked into the blue room. He sat calmly handcuffed to his seat in the middle of the room. And although he did look tired after being up all night, he didn't look that close to breaking. In fact, he seemed confident. Smug. Even cocky.

It made Steve want to punch him.

Song smiled. "Hello, Commander."

Steve worked his jaw for a moment before replying. "Song."

Song nodded his head once and then glanced over at Danny. "Who's the wife?"

"Lieutenant Danny Williams," Danny replied, stepping forward. "And believe me, you're going to be someone else's wife before the end of the day," he added with a smirk.

Song smiled and shrugged. "We'll see about that. Right, McGarrett?" he asked, looking directly at Steve.

Steve didn't reply, trying not to let on that he had no idea what Song was talking about.

Danny seemed to instinctively pick up on Steve's confusion and jumped in. "If you cooperate, we might be willing to put in a good word for you with the judge. Get you a better room at Halawa, one where your cell-mate is already married."

"Oh, I'll cooperate," Song said with a sinister smile, then looked over at Steve. "But I'll only talk to McGarrett. Alone."

Steve and Danny exchanged glances. While not entirely unforeseen, that was not part of the plan. Song didn't know Steve had amnesia and it was imperative he didn't find out. It was going to be a delicate situation in the first place and the difficulty in keeping the secret would be compounded exponentially if Steve conducted the interrogation alone.

They both knew that and had an entire silent conversation with their eyes in a matter of seconds.

_It's ok_, Steve's look said.

Danny frowned. _I don't like it._

_It'll be ok. Trust me._

Danny raised his eyebrows._ And if you have a flashback?_

Steve glanced sideways at the door. _You'll be right on the other side_.

Danny pursed his lips_. I still don't like it._

Steve's determined expression did not waver.

Danny sighed. _You sure?_

Steve nodded once, resolutely. _Yes._

Danny looked over at Song and then back at Steve before he left, slowly closing the door behind him.

Song took it all in stride, like that was exactly what he expected to happen. "You're not taping this, are you?" he asked, looking around the room for a hidden camera.

"No," Steve replied. "We really don't like having evidence of what happens in this room."

At that, Song grinned. "I know enough about you to know that's true."

Steve kept his expression neutral, not letting it show how much it bothered him that Song seemed to know everything about him while he knew virtually nothing about Song other than what he read five minutes ago in his criminal record.

Song didn't seem to notice Steve's internal struggle as he continued to look the room over. "And no one-way mirrors, huh?" he asked.

Steve shrugged. "We don't like witnesses, either." He failed to mention that he was already recording the conversation on the phone concealed in his pocket, with a walkie talkie app sending a live feed to Danny's phone. His partner would hear every word Song said.

After a minute, Song finally appeared satisfied. He settled into his chair, getting comfortable. "So, back at Five-0?" he asked. "That's very helpful of you."

Steve had no idea why it was helpful but if Song thought it was, his best move was to play along. After all, Song was treating Steve like they were on the same side. The longer he could keep that going, the more likely it would be that Song would talk. "I thought so."

Song laughed. "Man, I have to tell you, I thought you were smooth back in Shanghai. But this might be even better."

Steve faked a grin. "I'm glad you approve."

Song nodded. "I do. Nice badge," he commented, nodding toward the shield clipped on Steve's waistband. "That's always been a good look on you."

And Steve's mind wandered.

Badge… Shanghai…

_Steve was riding in a van down a street in downtown Shanghai. He looked out the windshield and watched the buildings as they passed by, each one outlined by a myriad of different colored flashing neon lights that created a display large enough to dwarf both Vegas and Times Square put together. It was a humid night and the passenger van didn't have air conditioning, making both of his damp shirts cling to his body. _

_He wasn't alone. Stickers was driving the van beside him and behind him, Bert and Ernie were sitting on the floor, the bench seats stripped out long ago. They laughed between themselves, taking turns telling crude jokes. The van rounded a corner and the joking ended as the two men fell silent. Stickers pulled to a stop beside a run-down, one story brick building that had once been painted red. Now, the paint peeled off in layers, giving the structure a decidedly neglected air. _

_After placing their guns underneath the front seats and ensuring the street was deserted, they exited the van. Stickers approached a pitted, brown wooden door and knocked. Steve kept looking around, watching, as they waited for someone to answer._

_After a minute, a woman's voice called out in Mandarin from inside. Stickers answered several questions with the proper code phrases and a few moments later, Steve heard a bolt slide back and the door opened. _

_On the other side was a woman dressed in a red satin robe, as worn and ragged as the outside of the building. Her hair was short and black, without a trace of gray, and cut into a severe chin-length bob. Her face was well-creased and she had deep frown lines around her mouth, making her look old, mean, and hard. Life had clearly not been kind to her. _

_She took a long drag off her cigarette, the tip glowing bright red, as she looked at the four men. Then she exhaled, the smoke billowing up and lingering in the dank night air. _

_She looked directly at Steve and frowned. "Hérén shì yī?" she asked with an uplift of her head. _

"_He's new," Stickers answered in Mandarin, answering her question. "His name is McGarrett. He's with us."_

_The women took another drag off her cigarette, looking skeptical._

"_Nice to meet you," Steve added, speaking in Mandarin as well._

_The old lady looked surprised, but it worked. She dropped the cigarette and ground it out on the sidewalk. Then she stood to the side, allowing the men to enter the building. But she still glared at Steve as he passed, clearly distrustful. _

_Once inside, a burly man appeared and began frisking them. _

"_We know the house rules," Stickers told the man as he patted him down. "We left our guns in the van." _

_The man didn't answer, nor did he stop his process. Instead, he continued until he deemed them clean. He then led them down a dim hallway that ended in another door, this one made of steel. Here, he left them and disappeared. Again, Stickers knocked. _

_An eyeball looked through a peephole before the door opened, revealing a man. He was an average-sized, middle-aged Asian male with a plain face and bushy black eyebrows. He was dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt with sweat stains under the arms, its sleeves rolled up and open at the neck, allowing a few stray chest hairs to peek out. A pair of reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose and a blue ballpoint pen had been hastily tucked behind his ear, giving him the appearance of a hard working, mid-level accountant. He looked at Steve carefully, sizing him up. _

"_So, this is the new man?" he asked. Unlike the old lady, he spoke in heavily accented English._

"_Yes," Stickers nodded. _

"_And you're sure you can trust him?" he asked coldly, arching a brow. _

"_He's good," Stickers nodded. "He was hard to flip but now he's all in. Right, McGarrett?" he asked, turning to look at Steve._

"_Right," Steve agreed with a nod. _

_The man, like the woman, looked at Steve distrustfully. But then Stickers held out the metal suitcase he had been carrying and the man lost all interest in Steve. He took the case and placed it on his desk, popping it open to reveal a large sum of US dollars inside._

"_It's all there," Stickers confirmed before the man could ask._

_The man still performed a cursory count, then closed the case and locked it. He led the way out the door and down the hall to another steel door. He took a set of keys from his pocket, found the right one, and inserted it into the door. Now unlocked, he swung the door open and flipped on the overhead light._

_The fluorescent lights flickered several times, then caught on, illuminating the room which was filled with preteen girls. Some had been asleep on the floor and now struggled to sit up and wipe the sleep from their eyes. Others were huddled in groups, holding onto each other. All in all, there were probably 12 to 15 girls, and none of them looked older than twelve years old. _

"Qǐchuáng!_" the man commanded. _

_The girls obeyed, standing up. Steve couldn't help but notice that they were painfully thin and completely terrified. Some were crying while others tried, rather unsuccessfully, to put on brave faces; whether in defiance or for the benefit of the other girls, he didn't know. _

"_Shàngqián," the man said. The girls obediently came, filing out of the room. Bert led them down the hallway toward the entrance. Ernie went on ahead to start up the van. Once they were all outside, the man nodded goodbye and the old lady closed the door, bolting it shut behind them. Bert, Ernie, and Stickers began to quickly load the girls into back of the van while Steve, once again, served as the lookout._

_They had just finished loading the last girl into the van and shut the door when a police car rounded the corner, its lights flashing and sirens blaring. _

_Steve immediately grabbed Stickers and shoved him hard against the van, pinning his arms behind his back. He pulled a set of handcuffs from his back belt loop beneath his shirt and quickly cuffed him while the two police officers jumped out of their car, pulling their guns on Bert and Ernie and yelling for them to stop. Caught off-guard, they had no choice but to comply. _

_It was all over in a matter of seconds. _

_One of the policemen walked towards Steve, yelling in Mandarin for him to put his hands up, while the other one frisked and cuffed Bert and Ernie. Steve complied and then began to try and explain. _

"_I'm with the police, too," he said in Mandarin. "From the USA."_

_The officer didn't buy it at all. "Hands up," he repeated, still speaking in Mandarin._

"_Look, I'm going to show you my credentials," Steve said, slowly reaching his right hand into his shirt pocket. He pulled out a case, which he flipped open to reveal the badge. _

_The policeman paused but was unwilling to come closer to look. "Throw them to me," he commanded._

_Steve complied, tossing his creds on the ground a few feet away from the officer, then raised his hand back in the air. He wanted, actually needed, the officer to believe him. So he wasn't going to give him any reason to doubt._

"_Call them in," Steve suggested. "I'm working with the Ministry of State Security," he added, name-dropping China's equivalent of the FBI. "We're trying to stop human trafficking from your country to mine." _

_The officer seemed to consider this. Then he reached down and picked up Steve's creds. After scrutinizing them in the light from the streetlamp, he walked back to his car. He holstered his gun and picked up the police radio with one hand, Steve's badge still in the other._

_It was the only opening Steve was going to get. _

_He quickly swiveled and hit the officer near him with an uppercut, knocking him out. Steve grabbed the man's gun and shot out the headlights of the police cruiser before the officer back at the car even knew what was happening. _

_Steve hastily opened the sliding door to the van. "Get in!" he yelled to Bert, Ernie, and Stickers, who were all cuffed, defenseless. _

_Steve continued to pepper the police cruiser with shots, providing cover as the men got in the side of the van and he made his way to the driver's seat. _

_With one last shot, he hopped in the van and drove off into the night, leaving his fake FBI credentials behind._

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

A/N #1: So, if you guys have made it this far, you trust me, right? Ok. Keep that in mind.

A/N #2: I also wrote a short triple-drabble re: the show last night called "No Easy Answers". So please look for that later today.

* * *

Chapter 9

"Hey… You with me?"

Steve didn't answer, but at least he blinked a few times. Granted, they were slow blinks, and his partner sill looked more out of it than not, but at least it was a step in the right direction. And having now witnessed three episodes, he knew Steve would snap out of it when the flashback was over. All Danny had to do was wait.

And he had been waiting for a while.

Once it became evident that Steve had zoned out, thanks to the silence over the live feed, Danny quickly went into the blue room. He turned his partner away from Song and then told Steve he needed to talk to him for a moment in private. It was a half-truth, of course, and Steve didn't even acknowledge Danny's presence, much less that he had said anything.

But Song, who couldn't see Steve's face, was none the wiser. At least, Danny hoped he wasn't. Surely Song picked up on something, but with any luck he just thought it was a momentary lapse of concentration as opposed to a full-blown, lost-my-marbles space-out.

Danny had led Steve out of the room- he was surprisingly docile during a flashback, which was another problem—and down the hall to his office. Danny sat him down on the sofa while Danny took a guest chair nearby and waited.

Which was what he was still doing.

Danny glanced around. He would rather have played the waiting game in his own office, but decided that when Steve came out of it, it would probably help him get oriented more quickly if he was in familiar territory. Besides, Danny's office was a mess, with files everywhere, and finding places for two people to sit was somewhat of a challenge. For once, he was glad Steve was a neat freak. And he was also glad that he never could bring himself to clean out Steve's office after he disappeared, even when it looked hopeless that he would ever come back.

Steve blinked again, this time a little faster.

"Steve?" Danny asked again. If he'd had a dollar for every time he'd called his partner's name over the past few days trying to ground him, he wouldn't exactly be rich but he'd at least have a good start on Grace's college fund.

Steve's pupils began to constrict, returning to a more normal, less wide-eyed position, and Danny knew it was almost over.

"Hey, you're in your office. You're ok," he said, hoping it would help the transition back to reality.

It didn't.

Steve leapt up from the sofa, his eyes still unseeing.

Danny followed suit and reached out cautiously to his partner. "Hey, McGarrett," he said, concerned.

He still didn't respond, but that wasn't what worried Danny the most—what worried him the most was that Steve was shaking. Not with huge movements, like a seizure, but with slight tremors in his hands and arms. They weren't big, but they were there.

_Shock_, Danny thought. As if things were going so well before…

"McGarrett!" he called out again, louder this time.

This time, Steve responded.

By turning and making a break for the door.

Danny immediately blocked his way, not wanting a repeat of the bathroom boxing showdown. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To kill him," Steve replied, his face contorted in anger.

And Danny realized it wasn't shock that was making Steve tremble—it was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. He hadn't seen Steve this worked up since the night he broke into the Governor's mansion. And look how well that turned out...

"I can't let you do that," Danny told him, glancing at the bullpen. It was empty; Chin and Kono were still over at HPD, checking up on the crew of the Chì Lóng. It was up to him alone to prevent a very likely homicide.

"Why not?" Steve demanded, still trying to get around Danny.

Danny didn't budge, maintaining his position in the doorway. "Because I don't want you to spend the rest of your life in Halawa, that's why!" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "Especially since past history has taught us you wouldn't last very long!"

"_I don't care!"_ Steve shouted.

"But _I_ do!" Danny yelled back, equally loud.

Steve paused for a moment, hands on his hips, and worked his jaw as he fumed. After a minute, he spoke, his voice now low and threatening. "Get out of my way, Danny."

But Danny wasn't about to back down. Not now.

"No," he replied, his voice just as determined. "Not until you tell me what you remembered."

"And then you'll let me pass?" Steve asked, his question sounding more like a demand.

"Then we'll talk about it," Danny countered, unwilling to give his partner carte blanche.

"Which means no!"

"Which means we will talk about it," Danny corrected, trying his best not to think of how much he sounded like a parent and Steve a petulant teenager. "And _then _we'll decide what to do about the bad guys."

Danny's words didn't have quite the effect was anticipating. Instead of calming Steve down, he became more agitated.

"The bad guys?" Steve laughed bitterly. "Would you like to know something about the bad guys?"

Danny paused before answering, sensing he was walking into a trap but unable to figure out how. "Yes…," he hedged.

Steve ensnared him immediately.

"I'm one of them!" he exploded, pointing to himself. "_ME, Danny! _ _I'm_ one of the bad guys!"

Danny was stunned. He didn't know much, and he didn't know what Steve had remembered, but he knew there was no way Steve had gone to the dark side.

Just… _no_ _way._

"Steve, you're not one of the bad guys," he tried to reason, but Steve would have none of it.

"You don't know that!" Steve shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "You don't know what I did!"

"Ok, then," Danny pleaded, "tell me!"

"I _helped _them, Danny!" Steve yelled, the anguish plain on his face. "They didn't even have a gun to anyone's head- I just _helped_ _them!"_

Danny's heart stopped.

And then it crumbled.

Steve _helped_?

_Willingly?_

It couldn't be true.

It just _couldn't._

And he began to wonder again if maybe Steve _was_ in shock. After all, Danny thought he might be in shock himself. He stood there numbly for a minute as he took it in.

Then he shook his head, his conviction returning.

No.

No matter what McGarrett thought, it wasn't true.

He looked at Steve, who was now sitting back on the sofa, and the heartache etched all over his face only confirmed his conclusion. Steve would die before he helped traffic girls. But it was also clear he remembered something; something that was tearing him apart. And Danny couldn't help him if he didn't know what it was.

Danny closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hating what he had to do next. But it had to be done.

He walked over and sat down in the chair next to Steve, who looked like he was barely keeping it together. He was hunched over, his face hidden by his still-trembling hands. Even so, Danny could see the anger was gone, replaced by soul-aching grief.

"What do you remember?" he asked as gently as he could.

Steve didn't respond at first, his face still in his hands. Then he dropped them, his elbows on his knees and hands dangling, but remained hunched over. "We were in Shanghai."

"You and Song?" Danny clarified.

Steve nodded, carefully avoiding Danny's gaze as he stared at the floor. "Bert and Ernie, too. We were picking up girls from a building- a brothel or holding cell or something." He paused and sighed heavily. "We paid for them and then took them out to a van."

Then he stopped. Danny waited.

Eventually he started again.

"The local PD busted us, red-handed, loading the girls into the van."

Danny's thought process halted for a moment, shocked at the revelation; then it kicked into overdrive. "Did you get arrested?" he asked. Because a Chinese prison… was that where Steve had been for 19 months? Could it possibly get any worse?

The answer was a resounding "yes".

Steve shook his head. "I flashed him some fake credentials. Then I knocked one of the officers out, took his gun, and shot at the other."

Danny was horrified. "Did you hit him?"

Steve shook his head again. "No. I was just laying down cover fire; just enough to let us get into the van and drive away. That's all I remember."

Danny dug the heels of his hands into his eyes a few times, rubbing them. Then he trailed them up and over his hair as he exhaled.

This was bad.

So very, very bad.

He didn't even know where to start in listing the crimes. Human trafficking. Unlawful imprisonment. Impersonating a police officer. Evading arrest. Impeding an investigation. Assault. Attempted first-degree murder. And those were just some of the American laws. Who knows how many Chinese ones he had broken as well?

But at the moment, he was actually more worried about Steve than the felonies he had committed.

Because his partner, his friend, looked broken; totally and completely broken.

Which just confirmed his position- no matter what McGarrett did, no matter what he remembered, he was not one of the bad guys.

"Look, Steve," he started, looking over at his partner, "that may be what you remembered. And that may even be what happened. But it's not the whole story; there has to be more to it than that. You had to be playing an angle."

"Like what?" Steve replied, still staring at the ground, his face anguished.

Danny shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe you really were working with the Chinese and didn't want to tip your hand yet. Maybe you were deep undercover, working for the Navy-the girls were trafficked by ship and I'm sure that broke at least a dozen naval laws. But at this point, we simply don't know the whole story."

"And we may never know it if I don't remember," Steve pointed out.

"That's true," Danny conceded, keeping his voice calm and reassuring. "But remember what you told me at your house the other night? How you knew your disappearance wasn't my fault?"

Steve looked up and actually appeared to be considering what Danny said for the first time since he snapped out of the flashback. His features relaxed as he remembered the answer.

"Yeah," he said, his voice returning to a more normal level. "I told you I knew because I knew you and I knew me."

Danny nodded. "That's right," he encouraged. "And I'm telling you I know the same way. I know _you._ And regardless of what you remembered, _you are not one of the bad guys_. You're just going to have to trust me on that."

Steve seemed to consider that for a minute before he sighed, resigned. "It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice."

Danny smiled thinly. "Then I guess it's a good thing I'm always right."

*H50*

The problem was, Danny wasn't always right.

Sure, he liked to profess and think so and a lot of the time, he was. He was right when it came to choosing what was best for Grace; right to move to Hawaii; right to join Five-0; right to stop wearing those stupid ties.

But sometimes when Danny thought he was right, he wasn't. Not that he'd admit it, mind you. Instead, he'd insist he had been right all along; it was just a question of semantics. Case and point: Kamekona's garlic shrimp. Or he'd say he changed his mind, like with surfing.

But the point was, Danny's judgment, while very good, wasn't as infallible as he claimed. And nowhere was that more evident than in regards to judging character. Because for every Mekka and Nick Taylor, there was a Matty Williams. Granted, Danny's blind trust in his brother had played a large part in his unwillingness to believe he was a criminal, but the truth was, he and Steve were just as close as brothers. And while Steve would like to believe him with 100% certainty, there was still a sliver of doubt.

Because Steve's Swiss cheese memory was feeding him memories that were downright damning. So while Danny's confidence was appreciated and even reassuring on some level, it wasn't completely convincing. Steve couldn't just take his partner's word; he had to know for sure. He wouldn't rest until he knew the truth, even if that truth put him in prison for the rest of his life.

And right now, the only thing standing between Steve and the truth were two doors and Lieutenant Danny Williams.

"I've got to go back in there," Steve told him, rising up off the sofa.

"Whoa, whoa," Danny replied, getting up too, "no, you don't."

"Talking to Song is the only way to find out the truth."

"I know," Danny agreed, "but you're not going back in. We were lucky to get you out of there before Song caught on and we're not going to get that lucky twice. Need I remind you he still hasn't used his phone call? He can have word out to his buddies in two seconds that you've got amnesia and at that point, you're as good as dead."

Steve shrugged. "So we won't give him his phone call."

"I can't hold him in the blue room forever and you know it," Danny countered. "And while the flashbacks are a really good sign your memory will come back, we have no idea how long that will take. It might be days; it might be months. We simply don't know. So right now, our best play is for you to stay out of his sight."

"Then how are we supposed to learn anything?" Steve asked, frustrated, his hands on his hips.

"I'll go talk to him," Danny replied, simply.

"Song already said he'd only talk to me," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah, well, criminals lie."

"So you think you'll just waltz in there and Song will spill his guts?"

Danny shook his head. "Probably not. But he might cough up something. And we'll never know until we try."

Steve scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. While he wasn't crazy about sitting on the sidelines, it couldn't hurt to let Danny talk to Song. "You'll give me a live feed from your phone?" he asked.

Danny nodded. "Yeah. And Chin and Kono are back," he indicated with an uplift of his head and as he looked through the glass, "so that will give us two extra sets of ears."

"And two more interrogators if Song refuses to talk to you," Steve added.

"Exactly."

*H50*

Thirty minutes later, Chin and Kono were up to speed and Danny's live feed was ready to go.

"I hope this works," Steve said as he watched Danny's back retreat down the hall towards the blue room.

"It's worth a try," Chin commented, looking over at him with a wan smile.

"You want to sit down, Boss?" Kono asked, pointing to the sofa in Steve's office.

Steve shook his head. "No thanks."

He had too much adrenaline to sit down anyway. So instead he leaned against his desk, fidgeting. He stopped once he heard the door open over the feed, which was broadcasting from the speakerphone on his desk.

"What took so long?" Song asked, the humor apparent in his voice.

"I was putting your profile up on Halawa's match dot com site," Danny snarked back.

"Cute. Where's McGarrett?"

"He's screening through the guys who have already expressed an interest in you. You're going to be quite popular over there; I bet your dance card will always be full."

Steve could just hear the smirk on Danny's face through the feed and grinned.

"Yeah, I'll bet that's what he's doing," Song replied, choosing to ignore Danny's remarks about his future popularity.

"So let's talk about what you've been doing- trafficking little girls."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And those girls we found on your ship?" Danny asked.

"I was holding them for a friend."

Danny chucked humorlessly. "Sure you were."

"If you don't believe me, ask McGarrett," Song replied indifferently; almost confidently.

Steve leaned closer to the speakerphone.

"McGarrett would neverbe involved in this."

"Maybe the McGarrett you know wouldn't be," Song sneered. "But people change, and so did he. At first, he was repulsed. We had to use a little leverage against him and then we still watched him like a hawk. We thought he might try something stupid—try to make a break for it, maybe contact the police or even you. But he never ran off, never picked up the phone to talk to anyone. And over time, he adapted. Hell, he even got to where he _enjoyed_ it."

Steve's stomach dropped and Chin and Kono exchanged nervous glances.

It couldn't be true…

Evidently, Danny agreed.

"He would never help," he said reiterated forcefully. "And he would absolutely_ never_ enjoy it."

"Oh, but he did," Song said, the smile evident in his voice. "I think it had to do with a certain little lady who caught his eye. Once he saw her, he got all possessive; wouldn't share her with anyone, wouldn't even let us talk to her. They'd disappear into his room for hours on end and when he came out… well," he paused for dramatic effect, "let's just say he was in a better mood, if you know what I mean."

And Steve had a sneaking feeling he_ did_ know what Song meant as he stared off into the distance…

_They were all laughing as Steve unlocked the handcuffs from Stickers, Bert, and Ernie's wrists. The girls had already been taken down and secured below deck by the rest of the Chi Long's crew. _

_Steve handed the car keys to Bert. "Make sure you change the plates," Steve reminded him. Then Bert took off to deposit the van in a warehouse a few blocks away. _

_Stickers clapped his hand on Steve's back. "I knew you'd come in handy."_

_Steve grinned. "And I haven't come in handy before? I'm hurt."_

_Stickers laughed. "Well, maybe once or twice. Why else would the boss give you your own ship and crew?"_

"_It is better than an employee of the month certificate," Steve acknowledged._

_Stickers laughed again. "Go home to your little lady and get some R&R. Same time tomorrow night, we'll pick up your load."_

"_Tomorrow, then," Steve replied, then hopped off the Chi Long's deck and onto the ship dock. He walked down a few slips and then boarded another ship. The deckhand on duty nodded to him and Steve nodded back before heading below. He stopped and unlocked a steel door before slipping quietly inside. _

_The light was dim as he looked around the room, with moonlight the only illumination. He was in the Captain's quarters, much bigger than the space allotted to the usual crew. Immediately inside the door was a sitting area, complete with a chair, a small sofa with a throw draped over it, and a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. In the left corner was a two-person breakfast table adjoining a small kitchenette, with dishes stacked on a drying rack beside the sink. On the right wall was a door standing slightly ajar, revealing a bathroom. And against the far wall was a queen size bed, flanked on both sides by nightstands and table lamps. It was a comfortable room, to be sure, one earned by doing one's job well._

_Steve made his way to the left side of the bed, which was unmade and lumpy. He drew the duvet back from over the pillow and a head-full of dark, silky hair spilled out. The girl was young—no more than 11—and pretty. She didn't have the pale, malnourished look of most of most of the girls, nor was she dirty; she had obviously been taken care of. She moved slightly, sighing in her sleep as she nestled back into the covers. _

_Steve smiled and sat down on the side of the bed. He reached over and brushed the girl's hair back from her face as she slept. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out a small package wrapped in white paper and tied with a red satin bow. He set it down on the nightstand beside her and smiled._

"_Happy birthday, Qīng Lài," he whispered._

_To be continued…._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Thirty minutes later, Danny left the blue room.

Song had clammed up after his little story about Steve liking a little lady and it was obvious he was done talking for now. Danny pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked down the hallway to Steve's office. He could only imagine what Song's little revelation had done to his partner. Danny knew it was a lie, of course. McGarrett would never be interested in a girl that way, just like he would never traffic children. But the news was probably eating at him, causing him to doubt, and Danny was glad he'd left him in the capable hands of Kono and Chin. Otherwise, he was fairly certain Steve would have either fled the building or completely destroyed the bathroom by now.

Which is why Danny was so surprised when he rounded the corner and saw the three of them in the bullpen, Chin working his magic at the smart table while Kono and Steve stood by and analyzed the data.

"Still too many," Steve said, shaking his head as he looked at the screen.

"Too many what?" Danny asked, drawing up to the table beside them.

"Freighters," Kono replied. "We're looking for all the ships that docked in the past two weeks."

"Didn't we already do that?" Danny asked, annoyed, because if he never saw another shipping record as long as he lived, it would be too soon.

"We pulled the records for the weeks surrounding Steve's disappearance, 19 months ago," Chin explained. "But for the current timeframe, we only pulled the records specifically pertaining to the Hinuhinu and Chì Lóng ."

"So why are we pulling recent shipping records now?" Danny questioned.

"Because I remembered another ship," Steve simply stated.

"What?" Danny asked, surprised. "Another one?" Because two ships trafficking girls were already two ships too many in his book. Could there possibly have been three?

Steve nodded. "Yeah. And that's not the best part."

"Then what is?" Danny asked, perplexed.

"It was my freighter. I was the captain," Steve replied, his voice betraying that he thought it was anything _but_ good news.

He was right- it wasn't good news. And it only added to the sinking feeling in Danny's gut. "What were you carrying on the ship?" he asked warily.

Steve's face said it all.

Danny closed his eyes and blew out a large breath. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, it did.

Danny had refused to believe Steve would be involved in trafficking girls; refused to believe that he would help willingly; refused to believe that he stayed of his own volition. But fate and Steve McGarrett had insisted on making him a liar time and time again this week.

Well, fate at least. Danny still believed McGarrett had to have been working an angle somehow. However, with each flashback and each shocking revelation, it was getting harder and harder to maintain such a blind trust in his partner. They needed to find answers, not raise more questions, and the sooner the better. Danny could only hope for all of their sakes that they got to the bottom of things before everything came crashing down.

Danny opened his eyes and looked over at Steve. "So there was a girl?" he asked, hoping he was wrong.

Steve didn't meet his eyes, looking down instead.

And he wasn't wrong.

Again.

Danny sighed. That was just what they needed— one more felony to add to Steve's ever-growing rap sheet. It was a good thing Danny wasn't keeping count. It was hard enough to ignore the crimes as Steve's friend, but as a law enforcement officer and the head of Five-0, it was getting to be almost impossible. If Danny stopped to really think about it, he would have to lock Steve up while they continued to investigate. Which was why he didn't stop to think about it.

But still, he was tired of finding out how much worse it could get on almost an hourly basis. He scrubbed his face with his hands and then ran them up and over his hair, exhaling in frustration. "Do you still think she's on board?"

Chin glanced over at Steve, who remained silent, then stepped in. "It's possible," Chin answered. "Steve indicated she was locked in the Captain's quarters, but we don't know if she was always locked-up or if that was just while he wasn't there when the freighter was in port at Shanghai."

"So you're thinking if you find the ship, you find the girl," Danny said, reasoning out-loud. "But the other girls would be long gone. They would have been taken off the ship as soon as it docked."

"Correct," Chin nodded.

"So where do we stand on finding the ship?" Danny asked, looking at the smart table.

"We have 60 freighters that docked in the past two weeks so far. We can eliminate all of the ones that docked in the past three days."

"Because Steve probably came to Hawaii on the same ship and he's been back that long," Danny concluded.

"Exactly," Chin answered. "We know he didn't come in on a plane- I checked the flight manifests two days ago. That only leaves arriving by sea." He worked a few key strokes and several lines of data disappeared from the screen. "Now we're down to 47."

"Still too many," Kono commented. "We can't storm all of them. Even if we had the man-power, word would get out and the crew would get rid of the girl before we even found the right freighter," she added, looking over at Steve apologetically. Not that it mattered; Steve was still staring intently at the floor.

"We're going to have to pull the manifests and look at the cargo," Chin replied.

"Or maybe not," Steve said, finally looking up.

Danny looked over at him, surprised both by what he said and by the fact that he was talking again at all. Chin and Kono were also watching him with curious looks.

"Do you have a better idea?" Danny asked.

Steve nodded. "Yes, I do. Song won't give it up so we need to talk to someone else. So I'm going to go see Sang Min."

They all stared at him in stunned silence.

"What? It's a great idea. If there's any trafficking going on on the island, he's going to know about it."

Finally, Danny spoke. "Well, I agree. And it would be a great idea. Except that we don't know where he is."

Steve shrugged. "I think I can find him."

Danny laughed. "Seriously? Because I don't mean to brag, but I'm a pretty good detective and I've been looking for him for almost two years with _no_ luck. You think you're just going to waltz out there and find him today?"

Steve nodded. "Yes."

It was almost funny. Except that it wasn't. But why did Danny expect anything else? Of course. _Of course_ Steve just thought he would go out there and magically find Sang Min. Like he, Chin, and Kono had been twiddling their thumbs all this time and all Steve had to do was go overturn a random rock and there Sang Min would be, slithering like the little snake he was.

"Do you know where he is?" Danny asked dubiously.

Steve shook his head. "No. But I have a feeling."

"Great!" Danny exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "You have a feeling!"

"More like an educated guess," Steve countered, shifting his weight and folding his arms over his chest.

"Even better," Danny argued. "But still just as likely to get you killed."

"I won't get killed."

"That's right, you won't. Because if you're going out there, we're coming with you."

Steve shook his head. "No. I'm going alone."

Danny couldn't help it. He laughed. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Steve argued, more forcefully this time. "Think about it, Danny. If Sang Min thinks I'm dirty, he'll be more likely to talk to me and tell me what he knows."

"And if he hasn't heard that news, he'll be more likely to just shoot you," Danny countered.

"Trust me, he's heard. Bad news always travels fast. And besides, if any of you are there, he'll know I'm back with Five-0 and won't tell me anything," he said, looking at Danny, Chin, and Kono. "And every one of you know it."

Danny did know it. But that didn't mean he had to like it. He didn't have to like it one bit.

Still, Steve had a point. And even more irritating, he was right. "Then we'll back you up from a few blocks away," Danny proposed as a concession, "and you'll wear a wire."

"Three blocks away and no wire," Steve counter-offered.

Danny sighed, realizing it was probably the best offer he was going to get from his stubborn partner. He might as well take it.

"Deal."

*H50*

Steve walked down the street confidently even though he wasn't exactly sure why he picked this area of town.

It wasn't an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district, where Sang Min had preferred to work in the past. Instead, it was a middle-class area, filled with mechanic shops, dry cleaners, and grocery stores. The houses were small but generally neatly kept, with an occasional bike in the yard or swing hanging from the tree. The residential streets were mainly empty, the home-owners away at work. However, the main streets were busy as people driving their Hondas, Fords, and Chevrolets ran out to grab a quick bite for lunch on their allotted 45 minute lunch breaks.

In short, it was not an area where anyone would expect to find a notorious snakehead.

But yet, it _felt_ right.

Steve kept walking, the GPS in his phone transmitting his location to Danny in his Camaro and Chin and Kono in her red Cruze. He hadn't spotted them but he knew they were only a few blocks away, begrudgingly staying out of sight like they had planned back in the office. They had forgone the live feed via the walkie-talkie app on his phone, another sticking point between them. But as Steve pointed out, Sang Min's men would check for it just like they'd check for a wire. Danny didn't like it, and neither did Chin or Kono for that matter, but they finally agreed. Steve was for all intents and purposes going in alone; the others would only come in if they heard gunfire.

It wasn't perfect, but it was as close to perfect as Steve could get it. He really preferred to go it completely alone to avoid risking the others but since he didn't call the shots anymore, he could only get so much. He supposed he should be happy Danny was letting him do anything at all.

After all, with all the incriminating evidence from Steve' memories resurfacing, it was somewhat of a miracle that Danny was letting him do anything besides pace around in an 8x6 cell. He knew his partner was taking a chance, believing that whenever they got to the bottom of things, Steve would be vindicated. But if Danny was wrong, if his blind trust was misplaced, then he would be out of a job at best and at worst, facing jail time for impeding an investigation and harboring a fugitive.

And Steve wasn't going to let that happen. No matter what, he would make sure Danny, Chin, and Kono escaped any consequences that might come from the past few days. He'd lie and say he had a gun pulled on them the whole time if that's what it took. They weren't going down with him; that much was certain.

Steve walked down the sidewalk, past the ABC store and bus stop, then looked both ways before crossing the street. No cars were coming but for some reason, he stopped half-way across and looked down to his right again. There wasn't much to see—just a gas station and a school, but it seemed… familiar for some reason.

He immediately changed course and headed down the street. He passed the gas station and then found himself stopping in front of the Maka Luana Elementary school. The school looked almost deserted and a large sign in front declared it was closed for the school year for remodeling, courtesy of a 2011 bond election. A few construction trucks were in the side parking lot but otherwise, nothing much was going on.

And Steve knew this was the place.

He made his way around to a side door which, for some reason, he knew would be unlocked. It was. He pulled on the door cautiously, opening it, and then slipped inside. He was in a hallway, lined on both sides by child-sized lockers which were in various stages of being refinished, the dirty beige paint giving way to the new, bright royal blue. Above the lockers on the left wall was a mural depicting the "Friendly Dolphins" frolicking in the surf, apparently the school's mascot.

Steve intuitively turned left down the hallway, toward the offices. He ran across a few construction workers, who all nodded like they knew him. Steve nodded back and couldn't help but notice the guns strategically concealed beneath their tool belts. Apparently, Sang Min had gotten into the construction business. It was a perfect front when he really thought about it. Construction jobs were always big and expensive, and usually overran their budgets and timeframes; it would be easy to launder some money through the overages. Plus, all you had to do was put up a sign and some yellow tape and people stayed away, all but guaranteeing privacy. You could do almost anything you wanted and as long as the work got done, nobody would be the wiser.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts when he reached the main office. He opened to door and was greeted by two men who were apparently not too concerned about hiding their AK-47s. Steve supposed if anyone got this far, they were considered a friend or at least another criminal, so there was no need for stealth. And friend or foe, there was no downside to obvious displays of force, if for no other reason than to remind the visitor of who was in charge.

One of the men stepped forward and thoroughly frisked Steve, checking him for guns and wires as well as his phone, while the other man kept his gun trained on him. Steve handed over his handgun without a fight and was glad he was able to convince the team to forgo audio monitoring. Evidently satisfied, the man stepped back. The other man lowered his gun and knocked on the door to the principal's office twice, then motioned with his head for Steve to go in.

Steve turned the knob and opened the door to see none other than Sang Min sitting behind the principal's desk. For a moment, he looked displeased.

Then he broke into a wide smile. "McGarrett!" he said with genuine pleasure as he rose from behind the desk. "Back so soon?" He offered his hand. "What, do you have another shipment for me?"

And as Steve looked down, the hand, just like the school, seemed familiar…

_Steve held the binoculars up to his face, looking off to the shore in the distance. Almost immediately, he saw two flashes of light, followed by a 10 second pause, and then two more flashes._

_He lowered the binoculars and turned to the man piloting the ship. "It's a go," Steve told him. _

_The man didn't say a word, but instead nodded, clearly understanding what Steve meant. _

_An hour later, the ship safely pulled up at port and one of the crewmen tossed a dock line to the worker on the pier, who quickly tied it to a ballast. Steve watched it all carefully from the helm, using night-vision goggles to scan the area, making sure they weren't going to be attacked or arrested. So far, the coast was clear. He continued watching until the ship was secured to the dock and a walkway bridging the two was set-up. _

_Suddenly, a white work van drove up. It was fairly new and the blue and white AT&T logo was painted on the front, back, and sides. The plates were new as well, which helped conceal the fact that they were stolen. Old plates on a new vehicle were always a dead giveaway. _

_Steve tensed slightly, as he always did during an operation, and gripped the goggles a little more tightly. But it was a good tension; it kept him alert and on his game. And here in Hawaii, in particular, he had no room for error._

_The van pulled up to a stop near the ship and the rear door opened. Two large men exited and quickly checked out the area, making sure the coast was clear. Then one of them rapped his knuckles on the passenger side door. It opened, and out stepped Sang Min._

_He looked the same as he always did: his hair was carefully oiled, his shoes were shined, and he was wearing a suit that looked cheap but that Steve knew would take him a year's salary to buy. Sang Min glanced around, then made his way toward the walkway on the side of the ship. _

_It was time._

_Steve set his goggles down and picked up an aluminum suitcase at his feet, which was quite heavy given its size. He made his way to the walkway, then crossed over and met Sang Min, who was waiting on the other side._

_Sang Min smiled. "How many do you have in the shipment this time, McGarrett?" he asked, skipping the pleasantries and getting right down to business._

"_Thirteen," Steve replied._

_Sang Min bobbed and weaved his head around in a circuitous pattern like only he could do. "Thirteen, huh?" he asked. "That's a very unlucky number."_

_Steve shrugged. "Maybe," he replied, "but it's a whole lot more profitable than twelve."_

_At that, Sang Min laughed. _

_Steve handed over the suitcase, which Sang Min took and gave to one of his guards to hold. He popped it open revealing a large sum of cash inside. Steve watched as Sang Min visually counted it. Apparently satisfied with the amount of payment, he closed it back. "It's all there."_

_Steve turned and nodded to his crewmen on the boat and a minute later, the girls appeared. Unlike the girls from the Chi Long, they were clean, neatly dressed, and well-fed. However, they did share one striking similarity with the girls from the other ship- they were clearly scared. _

_The crewmen guided them to the walkway, which they nervously crossed to the dock. One of Sang Min's men began herding the girls into the van through the open rear door. When the last one was inside, the guard followed them in, closing and locking the door behind him. _

"_Always a pleasure, McGarrett," Sang Min said as he stuck out his hand. _

Months ago, Sang Min had offered his hand to Steve for him to shake it: to bind their deal; to seal the fate of the girls. And Steve had taken it.

Now today, Sang Min was offering it again.

And as Steve stared at his outstretched hand, with its neat manicure and gold ring on the fourth finger, something clicked in his head.

And Steve remembered.

He remembered everything.

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than normal. It's just how the chapters broke. Thanks again for your continued support.

* * *

Chapter 11

Steve stormed out of the school and all the way back to his truck, which was parked a quarter of a mile away.

Right as he got there, his cell phone rang. Undoubtedly, it was Danny or Chin, who were monitoring his GPS signal. They knew the coordinates where he parked his truck and would see that they matched his current location. They would put two and two together and realize either Steve had found Sang Min and had finished talking with him, or he hadn't and was moving on to another location to try again. In either case, they would want an update.

Steve owed them one; he knew he did. The problem was, after his encounter with Sang Min and the unexpected flood of all of his lost memories coming back, he wasn't in the mood to talk. He needed to think, needed to process, needed to figure out just what he was going to do now.

He ignored his phone as he jerked open the Silverado's door and climbed inside. The call went to voice mail as he started the truck and by the time he had shifted gears from park to drive, his phone was ringing again.

Steve cursed to himself and pulled out his phone, looking at the caller ID. Sure enough, it was Danny. He changed the phone to silent mode and shoved it back in his pocket. Steve knew his partner would be mad, but at least that way, he didn't have to listen to the annoying ringing in his ears.

He wondered how long it would take for Danny to flip on his lights, hunt him down, and pull him over like he did the day before. His partner would probably even enjoy it. But thankfully, they weren't very far from Five-0 Headquarters and Steve was betting that he could evade Danny long enough to make it there.

It was kind of ironic, actually; they had spent so many months looking for Sang Min and he had practically been hiding in plain sight just a few miles away, probably for the whole time.

It was also ironic that Steve had spent the past three days feverishly trying to get his memory back and now that he had it, he profoundly wished he could forget the past 19 months all over again.

But ironic wasn't the same as funny and nothing about what Steve remembered, about what he did, was funny.

It wasn't funny at all.

Steve glanced in his rear view mirror just in time to see the Camaro pull up behind him, the lights off for now. But it was already too late; he had made it to Five-0 Headquarters. He pulled into his usual parking space and quickly jumped out of the truck, walking purposefully across the grounds to the entrance.

Danny evidently had no intention of being thwarted and drove the Camaro up over the curb and onto the Aliʻiōlani Hale's lawn, barely missing the King Kamehameha statue, and cut Steve off. He threw the door open and jumped out, his face wrinkled up in a mixture of anger and concern. "Hey! What happened?" he asked, striding over to check on his partner.

Steve didn't answer. Instead, he glared, his hands on his hips and his mouth closed tightly as the tension visibly pulsated in his jaw.

Then he turned his back on Danny and charged up the stairs.

*H50*

Steve burst into the blue room, throwing the door open with such force that is bounced back off the wall. He walked over to Song and roughly grasped him by the arm.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked as he followed Steve into the room, just a few steps behind.

"Taking him to jail where he belongs," Steve barked, hauling Song to his feet.

"What? Why? We're not done questioning him yet."

"Yes, we are," Steve replied curtly.

"Ok," Danny hedged, apparently trying to follow Steve's logic. "If you really want him to go, I'll call HPD and they can come get him in a squad car."

Steve shook his head. "No. I'm taking him. Alone."

"The hell you are!" Danny argued, blocking the door. "I'm not letting you take him by yourself!"

Steve looked at him incredulously. "You're not 'letting me'?" he said loudly. "You're not my mom, Danny!"

Danny's hands went flying, the exertion knocking some of his hair out of place and giving him a slightly deranged look. "Well, thank God for that! But I am responsible for this prisoner. If something happens, it's _my_ butt on the line. And need I remind you, I am the boss!" he exclaimed loudly.

Steve's eyebrows shot up. "The 'boss'?" he almost shouted, sarcastically. "After all these years of being partners, you're going to play the 'boss' card? That's how it's going to be?"

"In this case, yes!" Danny shouted, clearly angry.

"Then I quit!" Steve yelled back, shoving Danny out of the doorway and marching past him. "Consider this my last act of law enforcement for the great state of Hawaii!" he shouted over his shoulder as he led Song out into the hall. He quickly walked to the elevator and punched the button repeatedly. The door opened and he led a surprised, but smiling, Song inside and pushed the button for the ground floor.

The elevator doors closed before Steve realized that he never looked back at Danny.

*H50*

Once outside, Steve led Song past Danny's Camaro, which was still parked on the lawn and gathering quite a crowd of curious onlookers snapping pictures on their cell phones, to his Silverado in the parking lot. He unlocked the passenger door and ducked Song's head as he shoved him inside, slamming the door shut after him. He made his way to the driver's seat, fired up the truck, and pulled onto the street, leaving the Five-0 Headquarters behind.

Song looked over at Steve and laughed, genuinely pleased with the turn of events. "That sure was some good cop, bad cop routine, McGarrett," he quipped.

Steve frowned thoughtfully as he drove. "It's only a good cop, bad cop routine when both of the cops are actually good," he informed him.

Song smiled broadly. "And you're not a good cop, are you McGarrett?"

Steve continued looking out the windshield as he drove, his face unreadable and stony. He didn't even bother glancing sideways at Song. After a moment, he sighed heavily. "No," he replied, quietly and sadly. "I haven't been a good cop in a very long time."

"And I, for one, would like to thank you for that," Song acknowledged.

Steve pressed his lips together tightly but didn't respond.

They drove the next few miles in silence before Steve spoke. "See that red light up ahead?" he asked, pointing to the traffic signal a few blocks ahead of them.

"Yes," Song replied with a nod.

"That's where you're getting out," Steve told him. "I'm sure Five-0 is tracking the GPS on my phone so by now, they know I'm not taking you to jail. HPD will be all over us soon. If I pull over in a parking lot or even at the curb, they'll see the stop on the GPS, check the coordinates, and know that's where I let you go. You'll never make it." He reached into his pockets and fished out a key as he stopped for the light. "But they won't think anything of stopping at coordinates that match a controlled intersection. They'll just assume the light was red. Here, let me see your cuffs."

Song reached his wrists out to Steve, who quickly unlocked the handcuffs. "Now go," he said, jerking his head toward the sidewalk.

Song opened the door and climbed out, turning to look at Steve before he closed the door. "See you later tonight, right?" he asked.

Steve nodded once. "Yeah. I'll be there."

Song closed the door and disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk. The light turned green and Steve accelerated like normal. A mile down, he turned onto a side street and parked. He took his phone out of his pocket and placed it under the seat. Then he got out of the truck, locked it, and then walked back to the main street.

Less than a minute later, he hailed a cab and was gone.

*H50*

The sun was beginning to set as Steve finally reached the top of the remote mountain. He parked the Marquis in the circle drive in front of the mansion and killed the ignition. He grasped the steering wheel and exhaled a large breath, preparing himself. Then he got out. He smoothed his hands over his sharp, tailored black suit and crisply starched open-neck white shirt as he approached the front door.

He glanced around, noticing the lack of other cars. From all appearances, he was the first to arrive. That wasn't really surprising, though. Criminals were many things but punctual was not necessarily one of them. Steve glanced quickly at his watch, which denoted he had arrived exactly on time. He wondered humorlessly why punctuality was one thing that was hard to strip from a Navy man when other traits appeared to be a bit more flexible.

He walked up the white marble stairs and rang the doorbell. Chimes inside played an intricate tune and a few seconds later, a young Asian man also dressed in a suit opened the door. "Good evening, Commander," he said, bowing slightly at the waist. Steve nodded back as he stepped inside.

"May I?" the man asked, gesturing towards Steve. Steve knew what he meant and held his arms out from his sides. The young man thoroughly frisked him, patting down his torso and then his arms and legs. Finding nothing, he stood back up. "Please, remove your shoes," the man continued, holding his hand out to draw attention to a small bench against the foyer wall with a copper tray sitting next to it on the floor.

Steve sat on the bench and removed his perfectly polished black dress shoes, placing them on the tray. Satisfied, the man smiled. "Mr. Zhào will see you now." He led Steve through the gold and white striped foyer and down the dark paneled hall. He stopped outside an ornately carved wooden door and knocked once.

"Come," replied an older voice from inside. The young man opened the door and gestured for Steve to go inside. Then he closed the door behind him, leaving Steve alone in the study with a man Steve presumed was Mr. Zhào.

The room was large and richly appointed. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, its faceted crystals throwing light in a pattern across the room. The red Oriental rug on the floor was undoubtedly antique and very valuable. Bookcases lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes, some with titles in Mandarin, others in English. On the left side of the room, two deep burgundy leather couches sat facing each other in front of a fireplace, which Steve thought it was a touch unnecessary. It was rarely cold enough in Hawaii to need a fire, even here in the mountains. But it did lend a nice ambiance, which is probably what Zhào was going for anyway. On the right wall were two doors, one of which Steve supposed led to a bathroom, the other most likely to a conference room. On the far side of the room, straight ahead facing him, sat an enormous desk with two Tiffany lamps on the near corners, illuminating the desk's surface. Behind the desk was a black tufted leather executive chair, where Mr. Zhào sat, and past him was a credenza situated underneath a large picture window overlooking the Hawaiian mountains.

Zhào stood to greet Steve. "Commander McGarrett," he said in lightly accented English. He walked over with a smile and bowed. "Welcome. May I offer you a drink?"

Steve bowed in return. He really didn't want a drink but he also knew it was impolite to refuse. "Thank you, Mr. Zhào. A drink would be great," he answered.

He quickly studied Zhào as the man walked over to a credenza, opened one of the doors, and pulled out two heavy cut crystal Old Fashioned glasses and a bottle of expensive scotch. He was older than Steve—possibly 50—though he had virtually no wrinkles or other signs of age. His hair was dark, short, and neatly styled with a part on the left side. He was tall for an Asian man- maybe an inch or two shorter than Steve- and impeccably dressed in a custom tailored dark charcoal grey suit and bright red tie. Steve noticed Zhào's biceps bulged as he poured the drinks, straining slightly at the arms of his suit. He was evidently muscular and kept himself in good shape.

All in all, Mr. Zhào looked like an average, rich businessman who went to the gym, liked expensive things, and had more than enough money to buy them. He hardly looked like the head of a large child trafficking operation. However, Steve knew from experience that the bad guys often looked exactly the same as the good guys. And if he ever doubted that fact, all he had to do was look in the mirror.

The scotch now poured, Zhào turned and walked over to Steve, handing him one of glasses.

"Thank you," Steve said, holding the tumbler in his hand but not taking a sip. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Zhào inclined his head. "For me, as well. I have heard many good things about you, Commander."

"I'm glad to hear that, sir." He gestured around the room. "You have a beautiful home. And your property is lovely," he added, looking out the window. One glance told him not only were they on top of the mountain, but there also wasn't another home or building in sight. Zhào's mansion was totally isolated.

"I am glad it pleases you," Zhào acknowledged. "Please, sit," he said, gesturing toward the couches. "The others will arrive in an hour. I asked you to come now so we could converse privately."

Steve felt a bit uneasy at the news but he didn't show it. He sat on the couch Zhào indicated, which was facing away from the door and toward the window. Zhào pushed a button on his desk, undoubtedly signaling for something, then made his way over and sat down on the other couch opposite Steve.

"Please, drink," Zhào encouraged, taking a sip from his own tumbler.

Steve had no choice but to comply, and took a small sip, feeling the burn all the way down. Zhào smiled.

"You have a beautiful view of the sunset from here," Steve said, looking out the window as the yellows and oranges began to streak across the sky. Finding topics for small talk was getting increasingly more difficult but he didn't want to risk offending Zhào or his cultural proclivities. Besides, he needed to stall while he tried to figure out what Zhào was after.

"It is quite beautiful," Zhào agreed. "The view is one reason why I chose this location for my home, privacy being the other. Perhaps you will indulge me and tell me this, Commander- was the sunset just as beautiful three nights ago?"

Steve was caught off-guard and his focus immediately jumped from the sunset back to Zhào's face. The older man was still smiling at him. But underneath the cordiality, there was a hint of something else; something sinister and cunning. And for the first time, Steve could see the ruthlessness that allowed Zhào to rise to his position.

Still, Steve didn't show it. He kept his face neutral, even open. He smiled apologetically. "I don't know what you mean," he said, sounding genuinely confused. "I've never been here before."

Zhào smiled sadly and shook his head. "I wish that was the truth, Commander. After all, I had such high hopes for you. But we both know, that is a lie."

As if on cue, the door to the study opened and Steve turned his body to see two large bodyguards come inside from the hall. One had a SIG Sauer P229 trained on Steve, which was bad enough. But what the other bodyguard was even worse.

He was holding a pair of worn, light brown combat boots.

_Steve's _ boots.

Steve heard an unmistakable metallic slide, one that indicated a bullet had just been chambered in a pistol. He whipped back around and faced Zhào, who now had another SIG P229 leveled at Steve's chest, more specifically, at his heart.

Center mass. A fatal shot.

"I will ask you now for the last time," Zhào said evenly, with a deathly pleasantry that Steve found sickening. "Why were you in my house?"

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Steve had been in plenty of tight situations before. They were a given in the life of a SEAL and even with Five-0, Steve often found himself thinking on his feet to avoid disaster. So while having a few guns trained on him was not great, it also was nothing new. He always kept his cool and if he couldn't talk his way out, he would resort to fighting or shooting his way out. It was no big deal. Most of the time, he didn't even get hurt.

However, even Steve knew his current situation was less than ideal.

First, he was outnumbered. But three to one weren't the worst odds in the world and the fact that he was sitting while his opponents were standing actually bothered him more. It was always harder to mount an offensive when your butt was planted on a sofa. The element of surprise goes right out the window when you have to get up first.

Second was the obvious, he wasn't armed. Leaving his gun in the car had been a tactical decision, one he was beginning to regret. He knew his gun would have been confiscated if he brought it in but still, it would have been nice knowing it was down the hall if he needed it. He had come in peace but it was obvious his sentiment would not be returned.

Third, Zhào knew Steve was lying; or at least he thought he did. If Zhào knew for sure, Steve knew he probably would have already been shot and his body disposed of quickly before his blood could pool and run down the sofa, staining the priceless antique rug.

So, in short, things were bad but there was still hope—hope that he could execute his plan, hope that he would get out alive.

However, hope by itself never got anything done so it was time for Steve to form his plan.

Step one, lie.

He could admit he was at the house—that he had gotten confused on the meeting date and arrived a few days early by accident. There was a degree of truth to it, after all, and Steve had sold it once before. He was fairly confident he could do it again. But it did nothing to explain the presence of his boots; he never would have left them behind if it was all a simple mix-up. So admitting he was there for a different reason was out.

That only left denying he had been there at all. That one was trickier because he actually _had_ been there. Granted, Zhào had security cameras outside the house but Steve had seen them three nights ago and was confident he managed to evade them all. And if all Zhào had to incriminate him was the boots, then he could probably explain them away. Actually, he would have to. Denial it was.

Step 2, neutralize.

That one was fairly self-explanatory. Get the weapons away from Zhào and his men and take them down. He was aided in this somewhat since only two of the three men were currently armed, with one of the bodyguards still foolishly holding Steve's boots. He probably had a weapon as well, but since it was not drawn, it would buy Steve a few more seconds before he had to worry about him.

Step three, don't get killed.

Step three was really an offshoot of step two and it was one that Steve hadn't thought about in a while. It's not that he wanted to die; it's just that when you're running ops by yourself, it's not one you tend to think about too much. You do what you have to do to get the job done and if that includes dying, so be it. You don't give up and you never quit.

But when the op involved others, it changed and the welfare of your fellow teammates became a concern. The SEALs had their own phrase for this concept—leave no man behind. It was one they all bought into wholeheartedly and obeyed, even though sometimes the man you weren't leaving behind was a corpse.

When Steve joined Five-0, that concept, as it was, didn't fly anymore. He still didn't leave a man behind but now the people he was working with were police officers, not SEALs. Danny, Chin, and Kono were all very capable in their own rights, and Steve still pitied anyone who thought they could take Kono in a fight, but as Danny would put it, they didn't all have his freaky ninja skills. Steve found himself becoming very protective of them and eventually realized that their welfare was more important to him than getting the job done. Granted, it took Steve a while to get to that place, with Danny getting shot at the gun-runners house on day one being a prime example, but he had learned his lesson and had never taken their safety for granted again. They still did their jobs, of course, but catching criminals would never be at the expense of Danny, Chin, or Kono's well-being.

And even though he was on alone now, Steve couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when he thought of his friends. True, he didn't care if he died doing what was necessary, but they probably would. As a matter of fact, he knew they would.

If one thing was clear over the past few days, it was how much his Five-0 family cared for him. The last 19 months had been hard on him, but it clearly had been just as hard on his team. They didn't say much about it, of course; Danny broke down a bit that first night at Steve's kitchen table, Chin smiled and told him every day how nice it was to have him back, and Kono had confessed "they had all been a mess" while they waited for his CT scan at the hospital, but that was about it. They let their actions speak for them instead.

And speak they did. From the moment Steve reappeared, they had dropped everything and had been there for him. Even when his memories began to resurface and they became aware of all the questionable things he had done, their concern, faith, and friendship never wavered. And after putting them through hell for 19 months, the idea of causing them any more grief was simply unacceptable.

So the optimal outcome, the _only _outcome, was for him to get the job done and still be standing at the end of the night.

With his thoughts now solidified and his plan formed, it was time for him to act, starting with step one.

Steve looked Zhào straight in the eye. "Like I said, I've never been here before. Ask your butler; he'll tell you the truth." It was a bluff, but Steve still thought it was a safe bet. He hadn't seen the butler all night; the man who greeted him at the door tonight was different.

Zhào's eyes narrowed, his smile fading. "My security guard, Mr. Chang, or the 'butler' as you called him, was killed three nights ago, as I am sure you are well aware. That was also the same night I found these boots sitting in the foyer. Would you are to explain, Commander McGarrett?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry about your man, but I can't explain his death or the boots since I wasn't here."

"You are insinuating someone else left these boots here? The same style and size you wear?" Zhào asked, the doubt evident in his voice. "That would be quite the coincidence. And I do not believe in coincidences."

Steve shrugged. "Those are very popular boots. Hawaii is home to eleven military bases which employ over 45,000 people. Pretty much anyone who's ever served in the desert has a pair or two, not to mention the wannabes who like to dress up for Halloween. They're not special issue- anyone with a hundred and fifty bucks and access to the internet can have a pair. So, yeah, I'd call that a coincidence."

Zhào's face did not waver. "Please forgive me, Commander, but I do not believe you. You see, the day after you went missing, my men received a call from your crew. You had not returned to your boat and they were concerned about you. Naturally, so was I. So I sent someone to find you."

The revelation caught Steve by surprise although he didn't show it. He knew he was dazed that day and had a concussion and all, but how on earth had he missed that?

"He found you at Queen's Medical Center, leaving the emergency room with your old partner, Lieutenant Williams," Zhào continued. "He said it looked like you had been in some sort of fight. He also mentioned you were barefoot. Was that another coincidence?"

"No," Steve shook his head. "I went out for a drink and after a few beers, things got out of control and I wound up in a bar fight. I hurt my toe, which required some bandaging, so I couldn't put my boots back on. And I couldn't drive, either. What your man saw was Lieutenant Williams taking me home the next day."

Zhào smiled at Steve sadly. "I wish I could believe you Commander, but you will see why I cannot." He stood and walked over to his desk, where he opened a drawer. Steve tensed, wary of what Zhào was doing, but he relaxed somewhat then Zhào withdrew his left hand, holding what appeared to be a remote control. He pushed a button and a large flat-screen TV began to rise from the credenza.

Steve had a sinking feeling he was going to be going from step one, lying, to step two, neutralizing, in a matter of seconds. His shifted his weight as inconspicuously as he could, and inched closer to the edge of the sofa.

"You see," Zhào said as he walked back toward Steve, "I am a man with many enemies, men who would want to harm me. But I am also a careful man; I take security very seriously. I have my own private guard force as well as a state-of-the-art security system. Eleven cameras are installed outside of my home alone. You managed to avoid all of them when you arrived, which is quite an impressive feat. However, when it comes to the cameras inside the house, you were not as fortunate. Actually, you are the star of the show."

Steve silently cursed to himself. He had seen the cameras outside; that's how he knew to avoid them. He knew cameras inside were also a possibility and he had looked carefully, both three nights ago and today, and had not spotted them. Wherever they were, they were well-concealed.

"Shall we watch?" Zhào asked and then, without waiting for an answer, he pointed the remote at the TV. It sparked to life and he realized immediately that Zhào had not been lying; Steve was the star of the show.

The taped camera feed began three nights ago with the security guard, Mr. Chang, opening the front door. Steve watched and saw himself standing on the other side.

"Commander, what a surprise," Chang said cordially with a slight bow. "Please, come in."

Steve bowed back and then stepped through the door.

"To what do we owe this honor?" Chang asked politely as he closed the door behind him.

"I have a meeting with Mr. Zhào," Steve replied.

"Ah, I see."

Steve sat on the sofa and watched the familiar process unfold on screen; Chang frisked him, then directed him to the bench where Steve sat and removed his boots, fatefully leaving them on the copper tray.

"This way, please," Chang said, leading him down the hall.

Steve was impressed as he watched the feeds seamlessly switch from camera to camera. He still wasn't sure where the cameras were hidden, but the angles indicated they were either in the ceiling or more likely, concealed within the ornate chandeliers.

On the screen, Chang led him into a small study. While the study he was currently sitting in was opulent and showy, this one was smaller and more business-like. A desk sat at one end of the room, a conference table and chairs at the other. And instead of bookshelves, each wall was lined with file cabinets. The room also had a large glass window, similar to the room he was in, which allowed him to take in the beautiful view.

"Please, sit down," Chang said, gesturing at one of the chairs. Steve complied. "May I get you anything?"

Steve smiled. "A glass of water would be great."

Chang bowed again and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Almost immediately, Steve jumped up and went to the closest file cabinet. He opened it and shuffled through its contents for a moment, before closing the drawer and moving on to the next cabinet.

Steve's attention was drawn away from the screen when Zhào spoke.

"You may not know it, but when Mr. Chang left to get you a glass of water, he called me," Zhào informed him.

Zhào was right—Steve didn't know. But it did help explain things.

"I knew we did not have a meeting and that you must have been there for some other reason," Zhào continued. "So I asked him to detain you until I returned home several hours later. And we both know what happened next."

Steve actually didn't know exactly that happened next, but he had a pretty good guess. He had killed Chang.

But time on the screen had not caught up to his memory yet, and he watched as the man he was three days ago continued to search the file cabinets. Then, he stopped, transfixed, holding a piece of paper in his hands. After a moment, he heard a noise and hastily shoved the paper back in the cabinet. He ran to his chair and sat back down a mere second before Chang returned with the glass of water.

Steve nodded his thanks and sitting there, watching, he remembered that when he looked at Chang, something seemed off. It wasn't overt, yet still Steve could see it in his eyes. He knew he'd been made. Steve brought the glass halfway up to his lips before he threw the water in Chang' face.

The man sputtered, wiping his eyes, providing Steve the opening he was looking for. He quickly jumped to his feet, getting in the first blow. It was a right uppercut followed by a left hook and if Chang were any normal man, it would have knocked him out. But he wasn't; he was well conditioned and well trained. Chang shifted his head minutely right before impact, escaping the worst of Steve's blow, and only staggered for a second before regrouping and mounting his own offensive. He attempted a few punches, which Steve deflected, before he connected with an uppercut. Steve quickly shook it off and the men began fighting in earnest, trading blow for blow and kick for kick.

Skill-wise, they were evenly matched and Steve continued to watch as he fought with Chang, feeling oddly detached like he was watching a hero in an action movie. He noted when Chang tried to step on his right foot but only managed to get his sock. Steve pulled away quickly, his sock coming off in the process, before he landed repetitive blows to Chang' head. The man was trying to protect himself, but it wasn't working; Steve's hits were coming too hard and too fast. He continued to drive Chang back, toward the window, where the sun was setting over the mountain tops.

Steve was about to win; it was obvious to everyone watching.

But it was evidently obvious to Chang as well. As Steve went in for one last right hook to knock him out, Chang reached out and grabbed Steve's arm. He twisted his body, using Steve's momentum against him, and swung him around.

Straight toward the window.

In that split second, Steve knew he was going through it; that much was a given. His momentum was just too strong.

But he wasn't going to go through it alone. At the last second, Steve reached out and grabbed the front of Chang' shirt.

The tempered glass shattered as they crashed through the window, the tiny pieces cascading down on them like ice pellets. The camera angle switched over to an outside feed and Steve couldn't help but wince when he saw himself land, flat on his back, onto an outcropping of rocks one story below. He could almost hear his ribs breaking on impact and even now, sitting on the sofa, he had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around his tender midsection.

He continued to watch as his limp body rolled down the hill, out the camera's range. He was clearly knocked out by the fall, which really wasn't a surprise. He remembered the fight up until they went through the window and the next thing he remembered, he was coming to on the mountain at night, his memories gone.

But watching Chang land was even worse. He fell straight down and landed on his head, his neck visibly snapping under his weight. There was no doubt in Steve's mind he died on impact.

With the show now over, Zhào turned off the TV and set the remote down on his desk.

"You were saying, Commander," he prompted; his words was still cordial but his voice was icy cold.

Steve shrugged. "Ok. So maybe I was here."

Zhào nodded once. "A fine concession, given the evidence. However, what I want to know is _why_ you were here. And what you were looking for in the first place."

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."

Zhào sighed as he walked toward Steve, his SIG still trained on Steve's chest. The two guards watched, but did not move to join him.

"It is a shame," Zhào said. "I never wanted to kill you. After all, I had such high hopes. That is why I added another China route and gave you your own ship. And you did not disappoint me. Your business was up over 210%." He shook his head as if he would be the person most burdened if Steve was murdered. Correction, if he murdered Steve.

"And after the unfortunate capture of my lieutenant in Shantou last month, I needed a new number two in charge," Zhào continued. "I was going to promote you to his position. That is why I called this meeting tonight, with all of my captains. I wanted to make it official. It would have been a night worthy of celebration." He shook his head again. "But that is not possible now."

"That's ok," Steve interjected, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I never wanted to be your lieutenant anyway."

Zhào's brows quirked up in surprise. Steve wasn't sure if that was because he wasn't used to being interrupted or if he simply couldn't grasp that being his lieutenant wasn't the best position in the world. Steve concluded it was probably a little bit of both.

"Then what did you want to be?" Zhào asked.

Steve didn't hold back. He smiled menacingly.

"I wanted to be you," he said.

And with that, he leaped up and lunged straight at Zhào.

_To be continued… _


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Steve grabbed Zhào's right hand, jerking it upward right as the gun went off.

The bullet whizzed dangerously close to Steve's ear but missed, going wide and lodging in one of the leather-bound volumes in the bookcase. They wrestled for the gun and two more shots fired off in quick succession. The first one ricocheted off the fireplace and into the side of the sofa where Steve had been sitting just moments before. The second shot shattered a light bulb and several pendalogues in the ornate chandelier overhead. The crystals splintered and shattered, sending shards of glass raining down upon them like jagged icicles as they fought.

They continued to struggle for the upper hand and control of the gun until Steve found an opening seconds later. Zhào hesitated and Steve whipped him around, twisting Zhào's right arm behind his back, and used his body as a shield, trusting that the bodyguard would not shoot for fear of hitting his employer. He hoped it would work as the guard holding Steve's boots dropped them and also drew a handgun, making it three armed men against one unarmed SEAL.

The odds were stacked against him, but Steve wasn't about to go down without a fight. It would have been easier if Zhào was a soft, middle-aged man with more bark than bite. But he wasn't. He was muscular and fit, and as he rammed his left elbow backwards, trying to knock Steve off his back, it became obvious he was also ruthless and would waste no time before capitalizing on Steve's injuries. Not that Steve could blame the man—it's exactly what he would do if their roles were reversed.

Steve grimaced and grunted as Zhào's elbow made contact with his cracked ribs. The bandages wrapped around his torso kept the bones secure but did nothing to prevent the unavoidable onslaught of pain. Still, he kept his grip tight on Zhào's arm with his right hand, not giving him an inch, and wrapped left arm around Zhàos' neck from behind, going for a choke hold.

But Zhào wasn't going to go down that easily. Again, he drove his left elbow backwards forcefully into Steve's ribs as he simultaneously lifted his right foot and slammed it down as hard as he could on Steve's big toe. The combination of stomping on his missing toenail and hitting the broken ribs again were too much. And while Steve did not let go, his grip was loosened just enough that Zhào was able to break free.

He quickly turned and tried to level the SIG at Steve's chest. He was too close to stretch out his arm and aim properly, but it did not matter. At this range, any hit would be fatal.

Steve didn't even stop to think. He just reacted-just like he'd been trained, just like he had practiced- to subvert a scenario that he always hoped would never happen but somehow always did. He jumped forward, closing the foot or two that separated them, and reached for the gun, trying to change its trajectory.

He didn't even have time to pray that it would be enough as the gun went off.

For a moment, neither man moved.

But their bodies were pressed together too closely for the bullet to have missed.

One of them had been hit.

One of them would die.

The question was, which one?

Steve was fairly certain it wasn't him. After all, he didn't feel anything.

But maybe that was the problem- not feeling anything was a sign of shock. And Zhào's face, mere inches away from his, mirrored the same wide-eyed, yet blank look Steve knew he was wearing himself.

Time seemed to stand still as neither man moved. Neither man flinched.

Then Steve felt something wet spread across his chest and the air was filled with the unmistakable smell of warm blood.

And one man began to fall.

And Steve had never been so happy in his whole life that it wasn't him.

But the fight wasn't over yet.

He held onto Zhào's gun as the man crumpled to the floor, dead, and immediately trained it on the first bodyguard. Steve was about to ask the man to surrender when he saw the bodyguard's finger tense slightly. Steve dove sideways behind the sofa as the man popped off a few rounds which lodged harmlessly into the sofa's wooden frame.

Steve came up from a roll and fired, hitting the first bodyguard in the right shoulder. The man cried out and dropped immediately, clutching his now useless firing arm. Steve quickly swung his gun around to the second bodyguard, who was scrambling to find cover behind the desk.

"Freeze!" he yelled, but the man didn't stop.

Instead, he aimed his gun at Steve, giving him no choice but to fire. The man dove and landed behind the desk before Steve could see if his bullets had found their mark. He could wait and see if the man popped back up or he could go on the offensive.

The choice was easy. Steve had never been one to wait. He quickly got up and ran in a crouch, making his way over the second guard to see if he was down.

He wasn't.

The guard had rolled onto his back and was starting to swing his gun up for a shot when Steve kicked it out of his hand, sending it skittering across the room.

"Stay down!" Steve commanded, his gun trained at the man's head.

The guard was positively seething but he did as he was told.

"Good choice," Steve nodded. He kept his gun trained on the guard as he backtracked and picked up the first guard's gun, then moved a few feet away to pick up the second gun tucking them into the back of his waistband as he went.

The room now secure, he walked back over to the desk, his SIG still trained at the prone man's head.

"What's your name?" Steve asked, his chest heaving.

"Ling," the bodyguard spat out, his dislike for Steve practically radiating from his body.

"Well, then, Mr. Ling," Steve said curtly, "it looks like you work for me now, whether you like it or not." Then he smiled. "It's time for you to start earning your keep."

*H50*

Less than an hour later, Ling opened the door to the conference room and held it open.

"Mr. Song to see you, sir," he announced, complete with a courteous bow.

"Thank you, Mr. Ling," Steve replied, breaking away from the group of men to meet his latest guest.

Since the fight, Steve had changed clothes, exchanging his blood soaked shirt and suit for a fresh one, courtesy of Mr. Zhào's extensive closet. He had also showered, carefully scrubbing his body to remove all traces of gunpowder. He washed the blood from his knuckles, where his stitches had reopened during the fight, as well as from his neck, where he found and removed a small shard of glass from the chandelier that had lodged dangerously close to his right carteroid artery. He then carefully rewrapped his right hand with clean gauze and bandaged his neck where it would not be visible underneath his shirt collar. He had paid attention to every detail and there was nothing left to indicate he had just been involved in a firefight. Even his freshly shampooed hair was dry.

Ling nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Sir?" Song said with a laugh as he clapped Steve on the back. "McGarrett, how'd you get Zhào's man to call you that?"

Steve smiled back. "I could tell you…"

"Let me guess," Song joked with a grin, "but then you'd have to kill me."

Steve smiled back. "Probably. Would you like a drink?" he asked, gesturing toward the large decanter of scotch in the center of the table and two remaining crystal tumblers.

"Yes," Song replied with a nod, blowing out a large breath. "I could use one after the day we had today."

Steve poured a generous amount of scotch and handed it to Song. "I agree. By the way, I'm sorry about all of that."

Song waved his hand dismissively. "You got me out in the end and that's what matters." He took a sip and then he smiled. "Besides, seeing you tell off your old partner was worth it. You, chasing that pimp onto my boat, was the best thing that ever happened to this operation."

Steve nodded and grinned. "I agree." Then he glanced at his watch. "If you'll excuse me," he said, then walked over to the five other men laughing in the corner.

Steve had never met most of Zhào's men before this night, but he knew exactly who they were. They were the rest of captains, the men who trafficked girls from Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia. If a country had a viable port and a supply of poor people desperate for hope of a better life, Zhào was there, ready with a ship and a route. And for the first time since Steve jumped onto Song's boat 19 months ago, they were all assembled in one place.

"Gentlemen," Steve said, gesturing toward the table.

The men looked a bit confused as to why Steve was giving the directions, as did Song, but they made their way to their seats anyway.

The conference room was large, even larger than the study, with a large oval shaped table inlaid with tiger wood residing in the center of the room. Ringing it were a dozen tall, black-leather chairs, in which the men were now sitting, their crystal tumblers of scotch placed on the table in front of them. To the left was a door, leading into the study, and on the back wall, there was another large window. The sun had already set and the only thing the window reflected back was the inside of the well-lit room. An enormous crystal chandelier, which Steve now knew was outfitted with a security camera, hung down from the middle of a large, ornate ceiling medallion.

The whole room spoke of wealth and prosperity.

And all it cost to buy it were the lives of an untold number of innocent girls.

But that didn't seem to bother its owner or the men seated around the table, ready to discuss the profitability of their operations and to laugh at each other's stories of near misses with the police and nights filled with debauchery. It didn't seem to bother them that they had taken innocent children and turned them into sex slaves for no other reason than to make a dime.

It didn't seem to bother any of them at all.

"Shall we get started?" Steve asked.

Song grinned. "Shouldn't we wait for Mr. Zhào, McGarrett?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "He's a bit indisposed at the moment."

Song laughed. "What does that mean? Did he get the party started before we got here?"

The other men chuckled appreciatively at the joke.

Steve smiled indulgently. "Something like that. But don't worry," he continued, "he made me his lieutenant before you arrived. I'm perfectly authorized to run this meeting in his absence."

The laughter stopped as the ship captains looked at each other and traded confused expressions, the disappointment clear on each of their faces. Evidently, they all wanted the job and Zhào had not shared his choice with anyone.

Finally, it was Song who spoke up. "No offense, McGarrett, but we'll need to hear that from Mr. Zhào himself."

Steve sighed. "That's going to be a little hard, Song," he replied, walking to the door.

Song shifted uneasily in his chair. "Why's that?"

Steve opened the door to the study and stepped aside, revealing its contents to the curious captains.

"Because I killed him forty-five minutes ago."

The men craned their necks and gawked at Zhào, laid out on the floor, obviously dead from a gunshot wound to the chest, his eyes open and staring into nothingness. Beside him was one of his bodyguards, alive but face-down, gagged and hogtied, a bloody bandage covering his right shoulder.

"Which makes me… your new boss," Steve finished.

He watched with satisfaction as the realization sunk in. Life as the captains had known it had changed. There was a new sheriff in town, one who had not only killed Zhào but had won the loyalty of his butler and bodyguard, Mr. Ling, all in less than one hour.

As soon as they understood that fact, hope began to flicker across their faces. Evidently, there was no love lost over a dead boss when there was a new position of power to be gained.

Song was the one to voice it first, clearly hoping his familiarity with McGarrett would give him the inside track. "So, McGarrett, have you given any thought to who you would like to make your lieutenant?"

Steve smiled and nodded. "As a matter of fact, I have."

As if on cue, the door from the hallway burst open, and Danny, Chin, and Kono barged in wearing full tactical gear, their guns drawn.

"Hands up!" Danny yelled as they moved in, HPD reinforcements sweeping in both from behind them and from the open study door.

Everyone in the room froze, but as reinforcements continued to sweep in, they slowly began to comply.

Everyone… except for Steve.

"Gentlemen," Steve said with a single nod of his head, "I'd like for you to meet my choice for lieutenant- Lieutenant Danny Williams of Five-0."

*H50*

Thirty minutes later, the men had all been read their Miranda rights and were in HPD custody.

Their phones had been seized, providing a wealth of contact information. Their crystal tumblers of scotch had been bagged, securing their DNA and fingerprints for identification as well as for matching to evidence left at prior crime scenes. Their weapons had been confiscated from Mr. Ling, who had taken them at the door, and would be handed over to Fong and the crime lab soon for ballistics comparisons. In the meantime, Chin oversaw the collection and possession of the evidence, ensuring a clean chain of command that would undoubtedly result in many life sentences.

Mr. Ling also found himself in cuffs but clinging to the promise of the good word Steve said he would put in for him if he cooperated before the captains arrived for the evening.

And Steve got the satisfaction of watching Kono direct HPD as they placed the men into police cruisers and hauled them off to jail. Song was the last to be led out, his hands in cuffs behind his back. Steve stopped the HPD officer as he passed, asking for a word.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Song growled as the officer stopped.

Steve smiled. "I just wanted to tell you that you were right before."

"How's that?" Song asked, confused, and Steve could see the glimmer of hope returning to his eyes—the hope that Steve was just playing another angle and that Song would be out of jail before dawn.

It was a hope that Steve was all too happy to crush.

Steve stepped forward, moving closer to Song, before his smile faded and his face turned dark. "Me, running onto your boat chasing Wang Lee," he explained, his voice low, "_was_ the best thing that ever happened to this operation."

Then he stepped back and watched with satisfaction as Song's face turned to stone. "Officer," Steve said, his deathly gaze still fixed on Song, "get him out of here."

The HPD officer immediately complied and Steve watched expressionless as Song was led to the cruiser and unceremoniously shoved inside, the door closing after him with a resounding thud. The car pulled away and Steve continued to watch until the lights disappeared down the mountainside.

He didn't even realize Kono was beside him until she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Boss… you ok?" she asked gently.

Steve waited a beat before he nodded. "Yeah, Kono. I'm fine."

Then they turned and walked inside together.

In the hallway, they passed the crime lab techs who had just arrived. Steve quickly grabbed Charlie Fong and directed him and his colleagues to the file cabinets in the small study.

"I want all of the contents catalogued as evidence," he ordered. "All the details of their operations are inside. Names of contacts, addresses of holding cells, lists and home towns of all the girls they've abducted or bought—it's all in there. If you have any questions, ask Officer Kalakaua," he said, looking to her as she nodded her acceptance of overseeing the task.

Steve left the gathering of evidence in her capable hands and went off to find Danny. He found him in on his cell phone in Zhào's study. Danny looked up when he entered and held up a finger, indicating for Steve to wait.

Steve looked around as Danny held the phone to his ear, obviously listening. The paramedics had already been there and left, carting off the bodyguard that Steve shot in the shoulder, and the only evidence he had ever been there was a blood stain on the rug. However, the coroner had yet to get there and Zhào's sightless eyes still stared into space.

Steve never intended to kill the man; and he never wanted to be him, either. He'd just said that to throw Zhào off his game and try to create doubt and hesitancy in the minds of his bodyguards. His plan had always been stop the trafficking ring and bring Zhào to justice for his crimes. But as he stood there, looking down at Zhào's body, Steve couldn't help but think that a violent death couldn't have happened to a better person. He hoped hell was especially hot for him.

Steve's thoughts were broken when Danny spoke.

"You found all of them?" he clarified, his eyebrows rising as he talked on the phone. Then he glanced at his watch. "Ok, take them now, but make sure it's simultaneous. We can't have them tipping each other off. We'll be there in thirty," he concluded before disconnecting his phone.

"They located all the ships?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "Yes. Although, apparently your ship was a bit harder to find than the rest." He snorted softly. "Imagine that—even your ship is difficult."

But Steve didn't reply to the friendly barb. Instead, he dragged his hands down his face in relief.

It was going to work. This plan- this crazy plan he and Danny hatched in two minutes in the stairwell, after his memory came back and Danny drove the Camaro onto the Aliʻiōlani Hale's lawn but before he quit and stormed out of the office, allowing Five-0 and HPD to coordinate the details all afternoon while Steve kept his cover with Song intact- was _actually going to work. _

After 19 months of lies, deception, constant vigilance, and the never-ending fear of being found out, it was almost too much to believe.

They were really going down, all of them.

Zhào. Song. The other boat captains Steve had just met tonight. And all of their crews.

He really was going to get them all.

Well, not just him.

It had started with Steve all those months ago, but tonight, it would end with his team.

It was the way it should have been all along, and how he would have preferred for it to be, but the risk had been too great. If Steve had been found out, if his self-imposed cover had been blown, he had no doubt Qīng Lài and all the other girls would have paid with their lives. And he would have been dead as well.

But with Zhào dead and the rest of the captains in custody, it was almost over. They had made it this far and there was only one step left.

It was time to get moving.

"Do they know to stay away from my quarters when they get to my ship?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "I made that abundantly clear." Then he clasped his partner on the shoulder and smiled.

"Now, let's go get her."

_To be continued… _


	14. Chapter 14

Author's note: We are almost there, guys. After today, we only have the epilogue and a short, silly "after the credits" type chapter left. Thanks again for hanging in there with me. I hope you all find the resolution (and answers) satisfying.

And now, to the girl...

* * *

Chapter 14

Steve knew exactly where he was.

And he knew where he wanted to be.

So he ran.

The last time, he had been running to save himself. This time, he was running to save someone else.

He ran as fast as he could down the dock toward the freighter, his feet pounding hard on the concrete. He ran to the girl who 19 months ago, had been a frightened child about to be killed unless Steve agreed to help; who he had taken under his wing and protected from the other men on the ship; who he let sleep in his bed every night while he tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable on the too-short couch; who had never spoken, yet he spent hours talking to her in both Mandarin and English, trying to draw her out of her shell; who had no friends or family, so he became both; who had no known name or birthday, so he created them for her in efforts to remind her of her humanity; who he gave presents to on her birthday and at Christmas and whenever else he could, to remind her of the good in the world.

But mainly, he ran to the girl who reminded him of why he stayed with the trafficking operation each and every miserable day; to the girl who reminded him of who he was; to the girl who reminded him that it was all worthwhile.

So he ran.

He ran to the girl to set her free.

The night was dark, lit only by the moon and the swirling lights on the police cruisers, but Steve made the leap onto the ship with ease, Danny trailing right behind him. The crew, already subdued and handcuffed by HPD, provided no resistance. And Steve didn't even spare a glance at the men that had worked for him for over a year. Nor did he look up and down the dock to see the exact same scene playing out on the other freighters.

Once inside the hull, the lighting on the freighter was muted and minimal, providing just enough light to see. Steve ran down the stairs as quickly as he could, he feet sure on the steps. One flight down, he stopped and sprinted down the corridor before stopping abruptly outside the door to the Captain's quarters.

His quarters.

Steve reached out and turned at the door handle, but it didn't budge. The door was locked from the inside and he had lost the key on the mountain three long nights ago.

"Sweetie, it's me. Uncle Steve," he called thorough the door to the girl he knew was waiting on the other side. "Please open the door."

Nothing.

Steve exchanged a quick glance with Danny, then tried again, this time speaking in Mandarin.

Still no response.

Steve pulled out his gun. It really wasn't his first choice, but Qīng Lài had been locked in his room long enough. He wasn't going to make her stay in there one second longer.

"Get away from the door, ok?" he called through the door. "I'm going to shoot off the lock and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Don't you just want to kick it down?" Danny mumbled, backing up behind Steve to avoid any potential ricochets.

Steve shook his head. "It's reinforced steel. The only thing I'd do is break my leg." Then he took aim at the door handle and fired.

The handle broke off easily and Steve put his shoulder into the door, muscling through it to the other side.

And there he found Qīng Lài, huddled on the floor in the far corner, crying.

Steve covered the distance separating them in three long strides. He knelt down beside her and gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

"Shhh… shhh…" he whispered as he cradled and rocked her gently. "It's ok, I'm here. You're safe now."

It killed him to know she had been locked in the room for three days, all alone. He had taught her well—she never came out of the room when he wasn't on board; it was just too dangerous for her to be around the other men. He always left the kitchenette stocked with food so he knew she had not gone hungry and the bathroom was right there, attached to his quarters, so he knew she was able to take care of her needs. But still, she must have been terrified, thinking he was never coming back.

And how he had wanted to come back. The second his memory came back to him and he remembered, he wanted nothing more than to rush down to the dock and save her. But doing so would have risked the entire operation. After 19 months, he had to trust her to hold on for just a few hours more.

And she had.

Qīng Lài's sobs eventually began to die down and Steve pulled away just far enough to wipe the tears off her cheeks. "I told you I'd come back," he told her.

The little girl nodded and sniffed, eliciting a soft smile from Steve. "That's my girl," he said, brushing the hair off her face and planting a fatherly kiss on her forehead.

"Ahmmm," Danny interrupted, clearing his throat. Steve looked over his shoulder, having totally forgotten his partner was even there.

"Do you want some Kleenex or something?" Danny asked, hiking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom.

Steve laughed lightly and wiped his own eyes. "Yeah. Some Kleenex would be great."

Danny stepped into the bathroom, then returned quickly with an entire roll of toilet paper. "I didn't see any," he said with a shrug, offering the roll to Steve.

Steve took it. "This will do fine." He tore off a few squares and wadded them up, using them to dry the little girl's tears. Then he tossed the paper into the trashcan just an arms-reach away, noting it was full of used Kleenex and an empty box. He realized Qīng Lài must have used them all up, crying while he was gone, and the knife in his chest twisted just a bit more.

But he was here now, he reminded himself.

And Qīng Lài was never going to be left alone again.

"Care to introduce me to your friend?" Danny asked, squatting down beside them.

Steve smiled at the girl and tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear. "Of course. Danny, I'd like you to meet Qīng Lài. My, uh... best girl."

If Danny was surprised by Steve's choice of words, he didn't show it. "It's very nice to meet you, Qīng Lài," he said conversationally and held out his hand.

The girl looked at Steve tentatively and after he nodded, encouraging her, she took Danny's hand and shook it.

Danny grinned. "Qīng Lài is a beautiful name," he continued, obviously at ease in talking to preteen girls. "What does it mean?"

The girl looked at Steve, confused, clearly expecting him to say something.

"Qīng Lài doesn't talk, Danny," he explained. "She never has. At least, not since I've known her."

"Ah." Danny nodded at the realization before he furrowed his brow and looked at Steve. "Then how do you know her name?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't. I asked around to the other girls, but nobody knew who she was. So I named her myself."

"And you picked Qīng Lài," Danny murmured as he looked back at the girl. She smiled shyly at him, her long dark hair and eyes shining.

"Yeah, I did," Steve said softly, looking at the girl, then back at his partner.

"And to answer your question, Danny…" Steve's voice trailed off and he smiled.

"Her name means Grace."

*H50*

It was after midnight before they left.

Danny watched with amusement as Qīng Lài busied herself around the room, gathering her stuffed animal collection together and wordlessly directing Steve to remove the Hello Kitty posters from the walls. He had to hand it to his partner—the entire room was an eleven year-old girl's fantasy. From the animals to the posters to the pink and purple sheets and heart shaped pillows, his partner had done it up right. Nobody who entered this room would ever think it belonged to Steve McGarrett.

Which was only appropriate, Danny supposed. The past 19 months had changed Steve in more ways than one. He had always been good with kids; not only with Grace but with the kids they encountered on the job. They had all been at ease with Steve, even in the midst of some horrific circumstances. But watching him now, Danny could tell Steve was completely wrapped around Qīng Lài's finger. He was going to make a terrific father one day. If not to Qīng Lài, then to some other lucky little child.

Once all her possessions had been gathered and placed into the trunk of the Camaro, Steve had climbed into the back seat and settled Qīng Lài in his arms. She was asleep before they even drove out of the marina.

Danny glanced at Steve through rear view mirror. His partner was still holding the little girl, looking down at her with a bittersweet look on his face.

"What are you going to do with her?" Danny asked gently.

"Take her back to China," Steve replied, not bothering to look up. "She has a family there. I'm sure they've missed her. I know she's missed them."

"Do you mind if I ask why you didn't do that before?" His tone was curious, not accusing.

"I didn't know where she was from," Steve replied. "She was taken before I jumped onto the ship. I asked her but she wouldn't talk and none of the other girls knew her. I tried to get her to point to her hometown on a map, but she just shook her head. She didn't know. She was so young when she was taken; it's really not a surprise. And rural areas of China don't exactly have the best educational systems, either."

"So how do you know where to take her now?" Danny looked in the rearview mirror again, trying to catch his partner's eyes.

It worked; Steve looked up. "I found her file in Zhào's house. He kept all the records there- files on the girls, files on his contacts, smuggling routes, you name it. It was the only place he kept copies."

"Seems kind of stupid to keep documents like that," Danny remarked. "They're fairly incriminating."

Steve shrugged. "I guess Zhào had utmost confidence that he wouldn't be discovered. His men were loyal and his place was secluded. The only way anyone was going to find him was from the inside."

Danny smiled sadly. "Then I'm glad you stayed."

Steve held Danny's gaze in the mirror for a moment, then he dropped his eyes back down. "Yeah. Me, too."

Danny was silent for a minute as the detective gears turned in his head. Then he realized something.

"Hey Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"When we got to Zhào's, you were cleaning up in the shower. And then the captains began to arrive. When did you have time to look through his records?"

Steve didn't look up.

"Unless…" Danny continued, piecing the story together as he talk out loud. "You didn't look at them tonight." He cocked his head to the side. "Is that where you were three nights ago when lost your memory? You were at Zhào's looking for Qīng Lài's records?"

Steve still didn't meet Danny's eyes but after a moment, he nodded.

Danny sighed. So that was how Steve got hurt and lost his memory- putting his life on the line to try and find out information about a little girl. Although, glancing at her asleep in Steve's arms, Danny realized Qīng Lài had transformed from "a" little girl to "Steve's" little girl a long time ago.

And seeing her there, sleeping peacefully after all she had been through, was both heart-warming and depressing at the same time. Because Qīng Lài had been saved. But the other girls—the hundreds of other girls, just like her, just like his Grace—had not been so lucky.

"It kind of makes you wish you could take them all back to their homes, doesn't it?" Danny asked wistfully. "Do you think there's enough information in Zhào's records for us to find them all?"

In the backseat, Steve startled and looked up, confused, his brow furrowed. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Danny asked.

"I've already returned them."

It was Danny's turn to be confused. "What?"

"I returned them," Steve repeated.

"All of them?" Danny asked incredulously.

Steve nodded.

"How?"

Steve grinned. "That's the best part. Sang Min helped me."

"Sang Min?" Danny replied, surprised. "The disco weasel? Why would he help you?"

"He needed the money. He's been out of the smuggling business since he's been in hiding. All of his boats and most of his people were idle and it irks him to be low on business ventures." Steve paused and shrugged. "So I made him an offer. He would meet me at the docks when a shipment came in and then he used his resources and know-how to return the girls to their homes. As it turns out, smuggling people into Asia isn't all that different than smuggling them out."

Danny shook his head. "You must have paid him well."

"I did," Steve said, nodding. "I paid him really well. It was a dream come true for him: borderline legit and highly profitable with a side of danger and slime."

Danny grinned. "Do I even want to know where you got the money? I mean, do I need to call HPD and tell them to go count the money in the evidence locker again?"

Steve grinned back. "Nah, it's all there. I gave him my take of the profits plus a little more I won playing poker."

Danny whistled, long and low. "Your job must have paid really well."

Steve smirked. "I might have been employee of the month a few times."

Danny chuckled. "I bet you were. But what about the girls that came in on the other ships?"

"I paid Sang Min to return them as well," Steve replied. "He originally had to buy the girls from the middle men on the island, but then he slowly earned the trust of the captains and convinced them to sell directly to him instead. My payment to him was just a flat fee for getting the girls back to their homes so by cutting out a layer, the operation became a lot more profitable for him."

Danny shook his head, taking it all in. "Heaven help us if that man ever goes legit for good. He could give Kamekona a run for his money."

"Lucky for us, Sang Min doesn't cook. And don't ask me how I know that," Steve added on quickly.

Danny grinned. "Ok, so answer me this—if Sang Min knew all the boat captain's names, why didn't you just get them from him and hand them over to us? We could have shut them down."

"Sang Min doesn't just 'give' things away, Danny. Everything has a price. But I did buy their names," Steve explained. "However, I'd never met most of them or Zhào. I actually didn't even know his name or where he lived until a week ago. Zhào was smart; he staggered our runs so we'd never have more than two ships in port at the same time. And before tonight, we'd never even been all together in one place."

"And you couldn't just hand the names over to us because when we busted the captains, Zhào would have realized we were on to him and he would have disappeared for a while, only to start over with new captains somewhere else," Danny concluded. "Not to mention, he might have figured it out and killed you."

Steve nodded. "Exactly."

"So Zhào never caught on?"

Steve shook his head. "No. The girls were delivered and he got paid. He really didn't care what happened to them after that." He shrugged. "But I did."

Yes, you did, Danny reflected as he looked McGarrett at in the mirror. As a father, he couldn't even begin to imagine how a person could be so callous as to exploit children for profit. The little girl sleeping in Steve's lap wasn't but a year or two younger than Grace. If he had been in Steve's position, he didn't know if he'd have been able to handle it. All of the plotting, all of the waiting, all the duplicity and constant vigilance… for 19 months. And all the while, having a young girl to protect as well. It would have taken a toll on anyone.

No wonder Steve looked exhausted as he sat in the backseat, mindlessly stroking the girl's hair as he stared out the window. Danny almost hated to break the peaceful silence, knowing his partner deserved some rest, but he had a question.

"So how are you going to get Qīng Lài back to her family?" he asked quietly, trying his best not to disturb the sleeping girl. "She doesn't have a passport."

"I'm going to contact to the Chinese consulate to see if I can get one expedited for her," Steve answered. "I was hoping the Governor might be willing to make a call and help speed the process up."

Danny snorted. "Don't hold your breath. I don't think you're on the Governor's Christmas card list anymore."

"Probably not. But I know you probably aren't, either." Steve looked up and this time it was Danny who avoided eye contact. "I know you're been avoiding him and dodging his calls so I could stay on the case."

Danny shrugged and looked out the side window. "It was no big deal."

"Well, it was to me," Steve said sincerely. "Thank you."

Danny hesitated for a moment before meeting Steve's eyes in the mirror. "It was the right thing to do. And who knows? Maybe tonight's bust will buy both of us some goodwill."

"As long as you keep your job and I get a passport, I'll be happy."

Danny smiled sadly before his face turned serious. "Just make sure you come home this time, ok?"

Steve briefly returned his somber smile. "I can't make any promises, D. But I'll do my best."

_To be continued…_


	15. Epilogue

A/N #1: Well, here we are- at the end (almost). Thanks to all of you who read and especially reviewed this story. I'm honored that you took the time to spend with me and I hope you enjoyed the story. (And for some of you, I hope you've forgiven me for making Steve go missing for 19 months!) ;)

A/N #2: Please check back on Thursday for a short, silly little piece I wrote about one of the things Danny was up to while Steve was gone. I'll post it as another chapter here (not as a new story).

A/N #3: And I can't close the story without thanking my wonderful betas, Cokie316 and Rogue Tomato. I joked back before Chapter 1 that my stories would suck without them. And that's true—they would. But the other truth is without them, I probably would have given up writing fan fiction a long time ago. So thank you, ladies, for your friendship. And for making me want to stick it out. Group hug.

* * *

Epilogue

_Two weeks later_

Danny looked impatiently at his watch again.

A watched pot never boils and apparently, a partner who's run off to Asia—again- never calls.

Which was an exaggeration, of course. Steve had called exactly twice—once to tell Danny he and Qīng Lài had arrived safely and once, two days ago, to tell him he was coming home.

Danny supposed he should take this as a sign of improvement. After all, after Steve ran off to North Korea with Jenna Kaye, all communication ceased. Then when he went looking for Shelbourne in Japan, all he left was a "Dear Danny" note. In comparison, two phone calls was fairly communicative, if not downright loquacious.

But it was funny—after 19 months of not having Steve around, it was amazing how quickly Danny got used to him being there again. It was almost like the past year-and-a-half had been a bad dream.

But it hadn't, and Danny had the title of Lieutenant and responsibility of leading Five-0 to prove it. Which would make for one potentially awkward conversation when Steve got off the plane; one that Danny had been avoiding from the moment he saw his partner standing in the middle of a pineapple farm.

Danny wasn't sure if his decision would have the Governor's backing or not. They had had plenty of discussions over the last two weeks regarding the trafficking bust and Steve's participation in it, but they hadn't discussed this particular scenario. And while Danny had gotten to know the Governor a bit better over the past few years, the man was still hard to decipher. He acted like a watchdog on occasion but then turned around and, at other times like with the Russian consulate, he had their backs. The best Danny could figure was the man didn't like bad press but liked results. So as long as they handled things internally and didn't make a big fuss, it should all be ok.

At least that's what Danny hoped; because the alternative simply wasn't acceptable.

A voice over the loud speaker announced the arrival of Hawaiian Airlines flights #126 from Los Angeles and #271 from Shanghai and Danny stood up. His back and legs were tired of sitting in the hard plastic chair anyway. A few minutes later, people began filtering into the baggage claim area.

Most were tourists, with their happy, shiny faces, wearing Hawaiian shirts or bright tropical print sundresses and straw hats. Those who had drivers waiting for them were greeted with leis; those who did not eyed the flowers in the vending machines, wondering if it was worth parting with ten bucks to buy one for themselves to complete their Hawaiian fantasies.

The locals were easier to pick out. They looked bored and were usually sporting well-worn tank tops, shorts, and flip flops, which Danny would refuse to call slippers until the day he died. Their dark tans this early in the year were also a dead give-away. As were their lack of humongous camera bags.

The baggage carousel beeped, then began turning before Danny saw Steve clearing customs and entering the baggage claim area. He looked a little tired, probably from a lack of sleep on the plane, but otherwise he looked relaxed. Even happy.

At least more relaxed and happy than Danny had seen him since Steve returned from the land of the presumed dead. Which was no surprise; Danny actually felt that way himself. Now that Steve was back, the dark cloud from the prior year-and-a-half was gone and things could get back to normal. Danny would even let Steve drive the Camaro without a fuss. Well, at least for a few weeks. And then only if he was still allowed to complain loudly about Steve's driving skills, or lack thereof. But still, Danny thought it was a generous offer on his part.

And a sign that although some things had changed, others things had not. Because sometimes, the best way to move forward was to get back to the way things used to be.

And Danny, for one, could hardly wait.

*H50*

Steve saw Danny the second he walked into the baggage claim area. Even after several years in Hawaii, Danny still managed to stand out, like he didn't quite belong. Which, of course, was the opposite of the truth.

Danny might not always mesh with Hawaii as a place to live, but there was no doubt that he had carved a nice life for himself with Five-0. It was truly where he belonged, now and in the future.

Steve had been thinking a lot about the future during his two weeks in China. If the past 19, now 20, months had taught him anything, it was not to take his loved ones for granted. And after seeing Qīng Lài reunited with her family, it made him long all the more for the family he had created for himself.

He was fairly certain he would be able to make things work with Cath when she came out in a few weeks. And after years of dancing around the subject, he was ready to actually admit she was his girlfriend, if not much, much more. And he would reach out to his mom and Mary, as well. Things with them were always a bit strained due to their broken past, but they had been getting better before he left and he was more determined than ever to make it work. And with Five-0…

That's where it got trickier.

Because he simply couldn't imagine going to a job every day and *not* seeing Chin working his magic at the smart table one minute and brandishing a shotgun the next. And Kono, who he met as a surfer with a mean "love tap", had become almost like a sister and a force to be reckoned with in her own right. And Danny… Steve couldn't imagine a day going by without hearing his partner go off on some random rant, his hands flying while his hair stood still, all the while wearing a tactical vest and watching his six.

Those things would not change; could not change, not if Steve was to remain happy and sane, his life full.

Which meant something else would have to give. Namely, his position on the job.

Danny had earned his spot as the head of Five-0 and his record was impressive — just as good as Steve's had been when he had led the task force. And Steve, if he wanted to still belong, would need to fall in line, even if that meant he was number two.

Or three. Or four.

And fall in line he would. After all, he was happy to still have a job. There had been no guarantee the Governor would even agree to have him back and his only meeting with the man, one day after the bust, hadn't exactly gone smoothly. Not because Steve had gone missing and reappeared, but because of all the crimes he'd committed since that fateful day when he chased Wang Lee onto Song's ship. And running around Hawaii, operating as a law enforcement officer when he didn't have the authority or medical clearance to do so, didn't really help matters either.

But still, the Governor seemed to know a good thing when he saw it. And if there was one thing that Five-0 was, it was a good thing. Good for Hawaii, good for the Governor, good for each other.

So as he approached Danny, Steve resolved to adjust and follow his partner's lead because the sum of the whole was more important than the part. Now more than ever.

Danny grinned and opened his arms for a man-hug, clapping his hand against Steve's back a few times. "You don't write, you don't call…" he teased, breaking their embrace. "I was worried you might have changed your mind and decided to stay in China for a while."

Steve grinned back. "Sorry about that. I decided to stop by and see some old friends."

"Anyone I know?"

Steve shook his head. "No. And nobody you'd want to know, either. They were some of my more recent acquaintances."

"Ah," Danny replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet. "And how did that go?"

Steve smiled smugly, thinking of the hard old woman and her indifferent nephew who ran the brothel turned trafficking house. "Fairly well. They seemed genuinely surprised when the local police busted their operation and hauled them off to jail. Apparently, they were given up by an anonymous tip."

Danny chuckled. "Anonymous, huh?"

Steve shrugged. "Well, I couldn't exactly waltz into the local police station and clue them in. I mean, I'd been made by at least one of their officers. For all I know, there's an artist's sketch of me hanging in the bulletin board in the break room. And I have no doubt they would have been happy to toss me in prison right along with them if they realized who I was."

"Realized who you were pretending to be," Danny corrected with a smile. "There's a difference."

Steve paused, then nodded. "Yeah."

There was a difference. A huge one and the point was not lost on Steve. After three solid days of seeing just pieces of his past and thinking the worst, it had been liberating to finally remember the whole story. The reproach he felt for himself during those days had somehow been made both better and worse by his team's refusal to believe he had turned bad as they relentlessly pushed for the truth. He would owe them for that forever.

"And how did it go with Qīng Lài?" Danny continued on, conversationally.

At the mention of her name, Steve broke into a wide smile. He thought about her bouncing all the way on the plane ride home, so excited at the idea of seeing her family again that she barely slept, instead watching the in-flight cartoon movie three times in a row. How she sat beside him nervously in the rental car as they drove to her tiny village. How she started crying the minute he pulled-up in front of her family's small farm house, and how for the first time since he'd known her, she was shedding tears of joy. And the way her face lit up when her mother answered the door… Steve would never forget it as long as he lived.

Just like he would never forget her.

And a new laptop, complete with a built-in camera and a pre-loaded Skype account, was currently on the way to her house to prove it.

"Great," Steve replied. "She was happy to be home."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I think you're leaving out a few pertinent details there, Mr. Master of the Understatement. You know I'll drag it out of you later."

Steve grinned. "That's fine."

And it was. He would be happy to share the story later, when they were all assembled together, and he could share his bittersweet joy with the three people whose belief in him made her return home possible.

Steve would be happy to tell them how beautiful it was to hear her voice when she finally talked two days later; how melodious and precious her giggle was to his ears. And how hard he laughed when Qīng Lài started speaking in perfect English one day, complete with a Hawaiian accent, much to the surprise of her parents and younger brother.

He would be happy to share it all.

But first, he needed to clear up something.

"Danny?"

"Hmm?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I need to talk to you about something. About my job. Or, actually, about my position on the job."

"Look, Steve, about that…" Danny started, then his voice trailed off.

Steve's stomach dropped. "What? Did the Governor decide to fire me?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Danny reassured. "It's just, well…" he seemed to struggle to find the words. "It's just that I don't want you to be my backup."

This time, Steve was fairly certain his heart stopped.

"What?"

"I've just been thinking and I really don't think that's the best place for you to be," Danny rushed on, trying to explain.

"So… you want Chin to be your partner instead? Or Kono?"

Because on a certain level, that made sense. A lot of sense, in fact. Steve wasn't naive enough to think that Danny had gone without backup for 19 months. One of them had most likely become his permanent partner and Steve would just need to fit in where he could, which was exactly the pep talk he'd given himself not 15 minutes ago. But understanding it in theory was a lot harder than accepting it in reality.

"What?" Danny replied, clearly confused. "No. Of course not. It's just that I'd rather be _your_ back-up." He sighed as he looked at Steve's still confused face. "Look, what I'm saying is you can have your old job back. You can lead and I'll be your partner."

Steve scrunched up his face and cocked his head, surprised. "Really?"

Because it made no sense. No sense at all. Danny had earned the job and he did it well. Why was he giving it away now?

"Look, Danny," he said. "I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I'm not taking your job away from you."

Danny nodded. "You're right. You're not. I'm giving it back to you willingly."

Which still made no sense.

"Why?"

Danny sighed and ran his hand across the back of his neck, looking down. "Because," he started and then looked back up. "Because Five-0 is your baby. It has your fingerprints all over it—the way we operate, the methods, the tactics, the logic—it's 100% pure Steve McGarrett. And I can run it and get results but it just doesn't feel right. It's not the same." He paused and sighed again before continuing. "And the truth is, I hate it."

Steve's face fell.

Danny seemed to notice and hurried to make amends. "Maybe hate is too strong of a word but we all feel that way. Chin and Kono are too polite to say anything, of course, but I can tell they think so, too. Without you leading the charge, running around with all your crazy stunts and interrogating people with air horns, something is just off. And as much as it kills me to say it, we need that insanity back. Because without it, we're just a shell of what we could be; of what we're meant to be. So would you please just take your job back before I have to resort to begging?"

Steve looked at Danny thoughtfully. He had become adept at reading his partner over the years and even though he was still sometimes surprised at what set Danny off on a rant, he could always tell when his partner was sincere. And right now, he was. Danny really wanted him to take his old job back.

And the truth was, Steve wanted it back more than he had allowed himself to admit.

Danny didn't seem to know what to do with the silence as Steve kept thinking. "Please don't make me tell you about how it was six months after you disappeared before I could go into the blue room again," he pleaded.

The corner of Steve's mouth quirked up in a smile. "I think you just did, partner."

It took a few seconds to sink in, but then Danny grinned.

"So you'll take your job back?"

Steve nodded and smiled. "But only since you insist."

Danny's smile grew wider. "Oh, trust me, I insist." Then he nodded toward the baggage carousel. "Isn't that your duffel?"

Steve looked over, having totally forgotten he was standing in the middle of the airport. His bag was the only one still sitting on the carousel, which had evidently stopped turning a while ago. He reached down and picked it up, throwing the strap over his shoulder. Then, as they made their way toward the exit, he held out his hand.

Danny grinned, knowing what he was implicitly asking for, and dug into his pocket. Then he took out the Camaro's keys and dropped them into Steve's outstretched hand.

"Now that the change of power has been completed, maybe now would be a good time to tell you about a few of the items you have outstanding," Danny said slyly.

Steve looked over. "Like what?"

"Oh, you know. The Governor needs next year's operating budget in a week. The ammunition usage report and requisition was due two days ago. And all the paperwork from our last case is outstanding as well."

Steve cut his eyes over but couldn't quite bring himself to frown.

"What?" Danny asked innocently, a big grin plastered all over his face. "I've been busy. First, I had to help some grouchy amnesiac regain his marbles, then I had to engineer a massive raid on a mansion and seven ships. And then while you decided to take a two week vacation, I had to sit in meetings all day and brief the FBI while listening to the Governor take credit for the whole thing."

Steve shook his head and smiled. "I'll get started on the paperwork first thing tomorrow morning. But tonight, we're going out to celebrate."

"I like the sound of that," Danny replied. "You buying?"

Steve reached for his wallet, then stopped. "I exchanged all my cash for Yuan on the trip. And I kind of gave all my money from the past 20 months to Sang Min," he explained sheepishly.

Danny nodded. "Good to know some things never change. I guess now would be a good time to tell you that as my last official act as leader of Five-0, I got the Governor to agree to give you 20 months of back pay. It should have been direct-deposited into your account yesterday."

Steve stopped walking, stunned. "How'd you do that?"

Danny stopped as well and shrugged. "Well, you were technically working a case for Hawaii all along. And I thought he might be agreeable, considering how the FBI kept telling him that we had, and I quote, 'orchestrated the largest blow to human trafficking in decades'".

Steve smiled. "That does have a nice ring to it."

"Yes, it does," Danny agreed as they started walking again. "So, back to the pertinent point- you're buying, right?"

Steve threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, man. I'm buying."

"Well, then," Danny looked over and smiled. "I'm glad you're back."

With that, Steve could agree.

"Yeah, partner. Me, too."

_The end _


	16. And now for something silly

A/N: Ok, any of you who have read my stuff for a while know I love writing humor. It really is the default genre of my brain. So when I tried to write all of the drama and angst that became "A Complicated Truth", my brain rebelled somewhere around chapter 3 and threw this at me. And as a further act of defiance, it refused to think about anything else until I wrote this down. So, here it is- a short, triple drabble. Think of it as one of the silly scenes you sometimes see after the movie credits. (and no, this is not intended to be taken seriously!)

As a basic set-up, you all know that while Steve was gone, Danny was in charge. And naturally, he changed a few things. This is one of them and he's showing it to Steve for the first time.

I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

"Don't you think it's a bit…" Steve paused as he struggled to find the right word, eventually settling on, "…flashy?"

Danny shrugged. "That's kind of the idea, right?" he replied as he looked at the silver-white lights swirling and flashing against blue. "I mean, you want it to draw people's attention."

"I guess…" Steve's voice trailed off.

"I sense a 'but' in there," Danny pried.

Steve shrugged. "But, I kind of liked it the way it was. Standard, no fuss."

"But this is an upgrade," Danny replied, waving his hand airily around to encompass the dancing light.

Steve didn't look convinced.

"If it makes you feel any better, HPD loves it," Danny said. "They borrowed it and it was so popular, they're considering getting one of their own."

"Really?" Steve asked, surprise evident on his face.

Danny nodded. "Really. Look, you're just not seeing it from the right perspective." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, found the right app, and a few keystrokes later, music began.

It took Steve a few notes to recognize the song. He looked over at Danny with a classic aneurysm face. "Disco Inferno?"

Danny smiled broadly. "It's really effective, isn't it?"

Steve cocked his head and looked at the large orb spinning in the air, throwing silver dots all over the blue interrogation room. He hated to admit it, but the music did add something to the whole thing…

"I guess it might throw the perps off their game," Steve finally said with a shrug. "I mean, they know we're crazy, but they don't know we're_ this_ crazy."

A slow smile spread over Danny's face. "So, we can keep it?"

Steve watched the disco ball spin for a few moments more, then looked at Danny and smiled.

"Yeah, Danny. We can keep it."


End file.
